


Cacoethes

by TaintedBlossomOfWar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "Domestic" abuse, A bad mother makes an appearance, Abusive Lotor, Abusive interactions, Acxa deserves better, Allura and Shiro are trying to be good parents, Always check for warnings in the first authors note and tags, Angst, Bullying, Character death (ch.3), Child Abuse, Child abuse (ch. 2), Dark, Domestic abuse but not really bc they arent living together, Ezor is a hoe, F/M, Falling In Love, Female pronouns for Pidge, Fluff, He's a dick, I'm not saying who it is, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse, Implied pedophilia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lance (Voltron), It is only mentioned and hinted at right now but it might actually make an appearance later, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Keith has a bad past, Keith has a problem with being touched, Keith has trauma, Keith is adopted, Lance just wants to be loved and accepted, Lotor is troubled, M/M, Main Character Death, Matt is mentioned in the future, Pedophilia, Pidge is lowkey a bitch at first, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Possible future sexual content, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload, Shallura parents, Sociopathic character, Sorry Not Sorry, Stalker Keith, Stalkerish Keith, Strangulation, Sweet hunk, Teens being dumb, Tormented thoughts, Vague sexual intercourse, Violence, Violent Outbursts, Warnings are ALWAYS at the START of the chapter, anger issues, awkward boys, bad memories, but he doesn't make an actual appearance, don't worry I will give warnings, future death, future violence, homophobia in future chapters, just guess and you'll figure it out, mentions animal cruelty, past shalluratt, referenced drugs, referenced homophobia, school shooting AU, tags will be updated as I go, the galra's are a gang, this is going to be a wild ride, this is going to be dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaintedBlossomOfWar/pseuds/TaintedBlossomOfWar
Summary: Definition: An irresistible urge to do something inadvisableDear whoever is listening,                                                                              21st February, 2018I have dreamed of this for several months, but not once had I suspected the shoes I’d fill. It had never crossed my mind, but now that I think about it.. How could I have expected anything else?*_*_*Or, the high school fanfic that is going to be really dark and unneeded.





	1. The Starting Point

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off, I want to tell you what exactly to expect in the future: there WILL be a school shooting. That is final and it won't be changing. You have been warned now, so proceed with caution.
> 
> The reason I am even writing about this in the first place is because it is a coping mechanism for me. I have been plagued by awful nightmares since November of last year about school shootings and it is just at the point to where I'm constantly on edge and feeling unsafe.
> 
> As per usual, I created a playlist to listen to while writing and here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfOtrFzAyCw&list=PL7FXvLTOf40hKO8yfzu4UPBXauly8pTlO. Give it a listen- it might clue you in on things or even spawn off ideas on what may happen next!
> 
> Warnings:  
> Mentions animal cruelty very briefly. Dark thoughts. Very vague moment of panic. (If I need to tag or add another warning, let me know). Bullying. Form of self-harm.

_ Dear whoever is listening,                                                                              21st February, 2018 _

 

_ I have dreamed of this for several months, but not once had I suspected the shoes I’d fill. It had never crossed my mind, but now that I think about it.. How could I have expected anything else? _

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith Kogane, adopted son of Takashi Shirogane and Allura Shirogane, is seventeen years old.

 

He’s a peculiar teen, not having any friends or purposefully going out of his way to socialise. In a way, it was almost as if he was content with it but it was far from the truth. He may not crave shady and/or flaky friends, but he did crave  _ love _ .

 

However, being the quiet and withdrawn outsider he is: he wasn’t exactly lucky in that department.

 

Keith has been through several schools, having his family move around to accommodate that. The reasoning behind that is, well, violence. Now, not all of it, if any, was Keith’s fault. The students just seemed to have an affinity to pick at him, bully him, push him until he breaks simply because he was quiet.

 

That was why Keith found himself entering a brand new school during the second six weeks in the new school year.

“Altea High School..” He murmurs, staring up at the huge lilac lettering through violet orbs ringed with small smudges of black. He grimaces, looking up at his adoptive father from a ebony fringe that the man had just ruffled.

 

Beside him, Allura stood with a kind smile on her tanned face and her cotton blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun. She rests her hand against his arm and Keith tries not to pull away.

 

Keith absolutely despised being touched without permission.

 

Most of all, he hated being touched by  _ women. _ That, he knew for a fact, would be his biological mother’s fault. He mentally sneers at the thought of her before he is brought back to the present by Shiro calling his name.

 

“Hey, you alright there, Keith?” Shiro asks, a worried look on his face. He and Allura knew it wasn’t easy for Keith, just like it wasn’t that easy for them either. “You don’t have to do this today, Keith. We can take you home-” Allura starts but is cut off by Keith himself.

 

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry.”

 

Allura and Shiro both look at each other, a silent conversation passing through their eyes before Shiro sighs.

 

“Alright, let's go finish this paperwork.” Shiro says, taking ahold of Allura’s hand and heading towards the office. Both adults note that not much had changed since they went here themselves, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. There wasn’t a lot in this town that actually did change. Dread filled Shiro, though Allura was a bit excited.

 

“Hello, how may I help you?” Asks the receptionist, waving Shiro and Allura over while Keith just sat down on one of the chairs lining the glass window that showed the inside of the rest of the school.

 

Keith notes that the area being shown is barren, there is not a single soul moving about. However, there were several chairs and tables as well as a little island that had the sign “Cafe` closed after bell rings” on it. There are different types of seats, some are couches and others are bean bags though everything is the shade of light lilac. They were all nice and several looked comfortable. He can only see so much of what he is assuming to be the cafeteria and he makes a note to see what he can’t see later.

 

“Hey, are you Keith Kogane?”

 

Keith adverts his gaze from the cafeteria and turns to focus on the male in front of him. He takes in the tanned skin of his and the dark blue eyes, as well as the cotton blond hair that resembles Allura’s. He has an air about him that demanded to be acknowledged and not questioned, though Keith wasn’t too sure he’d be able to do either of those things. Even so, he lets out a soft, “yes. And who might you be?”

 

“I am Lotor Dawner, your tour guide. If you could follow me, I can get started on that while your parents finish up.” The male, Lotor, answers with a grin.

 

Keith looks over at Allura and Shiro, silently asking them if he should go but he doesn’t get either of their attention. He half expected that, but he figured he knew what they would prefer him to do. So, he gives a nod and stands up to follow Lotor, who claps his hands and opens the door to the cafeteria.

 

“So, tell me about yourself.” Lotor says, as soon as they were out of earshot of the office.

 

Keith is slightly taken aback, but he pushes it away and answers, “I’m a senior.”

 

“That’s better than nothing, but not quite what I meant. No matter, this is the learning commons or, basically, the library.” Lotor says, gesturing to the glass room full of books. And, of course, void of students. “No one actually calls it the learning commons, but some teachers get upset if you don’t.” Lotor explains, turning to lean against the railing of the stairs.

 

“But, let’s be real really quick: I am the leader of this school and have been for all four years with my gang: the Galra’s. It would be within your best intentions not to displease me and I am very easily displeased, do you understand?” Lotor asks, eyes narrowing in on Keith who doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the proclamation; almost expecting it.

 

“I would have no reason to do so unless you did something to myself first,” Keith replies in a heartbeat. It was practiced and well used, Lotor made sure to take note of that.

 

“Well, then.. I see no reason as to why we shouldn’t get along,” Lotor pauses and smirks, “I have plans for you. Let’s go get your schedule and then I’ll properly show you around. If you have the same lunch as I do, I request that you find me and sit with me.”

 

And with that, they head back to the office.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith didn’t much care for school, he found it tedious and unnecessary.

 

Still, he found himself seated in his second period class: Economics and Government. He wasn’t dumb, by any means, he just didn’t want to do the work. He would have much rathered been working on his motorcycle that he had gotten for his birthday the previous year. Still, he listened. Or tried to, anyway.

 

The door creaks open and his eyes make their way over to it, watching as someone came in hurriedly. He observes the new person, taking in their appearance. He notes jean blue eyes that are slightly glassy and irritated, probably from crying, and skin slightly darker than Lotor’s but lighter than Allura’s. The hair is what he observes next, noticing how it was slightly like his own: wild and slightly curly, though Keith guessed he probably tried to straighten it. The medium brown strands stopping at the base of their neck and curling upwards.

 

It was when he talked that he figured that he was a male. He was very pretty and feminine in regards to looks, but he hadn’t of wanted to make an assumption based off his physical attributes and the loose floral shirt and pastel pink jeans that he was wearing. After all, Keith wasn’t the lord of manly looks either.

 

“Sorry, I was late! I.. I uh.. Got caught with-”

 

“That is quite enough, Lance. This is the fourth time since the start of school and is becoming a habit. I can’t let you excuse it with excuses anymore, you will have to sit in lunch detention tomorrow.”

 

‘Lance, huh..’ Keith thinks, watching Lance droop his head slightly and head to his seat in the back of the classroom. There, Keith briefly notes a larger male but writes him off in favor of taking in Lance once more. He watches him talk with the other, focusing on his lips but that is shook off when he notices the blemishes and bruises on his neck, as well as the sightly red color to the left of his face. He takes in the animated way that he speaks and all of the movements, making sure to memorize it. It was slightly robotic in a way, reminding Keith of himself, and it made him feel something that only made him focus more on him. Why was Lance this way? Keith frowns, but doesn’t look away until Lance looks up to meet his eyes and his professor, whatever her name was, was calling his name.

 

Focusing back on his teacher, he dully notes the snickering of his classmates and the gaze staring into the back of his head.

 

By the end of the class, Keith was sure of one thing: he wanted to figure out Lance.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Wanting was a new concept to him. He had not ever really wanted anything, at least not when another human is involved outside of the thing he desired most: love. It was natural to want such a thing, at least that’s what Allura, Shiro, and his therapist had told him. He wasn’t quite convinced love was even what he apparently sought after. What came to mind when he thought of the word “love” was his adoptive parents and the books he knew that Shiro secretly read. It was mushy, light, and everything nice but not fully what Keith thought of.

 

No. What he thought of was the darkness swelling up in his chest, yelling at him to claim, keep, and protect. It was a strong urge, but he had no one to project it onto and hadn’t wanted to until he was sixteen. It was odd to him: the unfeeling human, bored out of his mind, to suddenly feel such deep and strong waves of raw want. It had physically hurt him. He was bedridden for a week due to chest pain and migraines. It was not a very pleasant experience.

 

Still, despite the warning bells in his head, he found himself watching Lance from across the cafeteria. The male had intrigued him and he would figure him out, one way or another.

 

“Hey, Keith! Over here,” shouts a voice. Keith looks over in that direction, noticing it was Lotor. He hadn’t forgotten that Lotor wanted to talk some more to him, but he hadn’t particularly cared to actively pursue the meeting either. Still, he strolled over there with his hands in his jeans pockets.

 

“I was wondering if you had remembered or not,” hums out the blond male as he pats the empty beanbag next to him. Without a word, Keith lowers himself onto the bean bag and gets comfortable. He had no idea how long this would take.

 

“He’s not much of a talker, is he, Lolo?” Says a female hanging off of Lotor’s left shoulder. Her red hair framed her face in a bob with bangs caressing the tip of her thin eyebrows colored blue, for whatever reason was beyond Keith’s and the schools thoughts, and danced when her head moved. If Keith had to take a guess, blue would be her favorite color going off of the bright aqua lipstick she wore that corresponded with her seafoam eyes in a pleasant way. He could tell she was more of the eccentric type, probably just as annoying as the bright colors she wore.

 

“It would seem so, Ezzie,” responds Lotor in kind. “No matter, I just wanted to introduce him to you all. I’m hoping he’ll stick around for awhile.” The silent ‘unless something happens’ and an ‘or else’ rang like a bell in Keith’s head. He knew a threat when he heard one.

 

“Shall we begin then?” Ezzie questions, lifting up a single brow. Lotor gives a nod and she offers a bright smile, removing herself from him arm.

 

“I’m Ezor, but I’m more commonly known as Ezzie!” She introduces herself, offering her hand out to Keith to shake. She had fairly long fingernails, obviously well taken care of and nails painted a.. Well, you could probably take a guess. Keith stares at her hand, debating with himself.

 

He didn’t want to make any skin contact with her, but he didn’t want to cause any kind of dispute. At the moment, at least.

 

Reluctantly, he shakes her hand as he tries to keep a neutral face instead of one of disgust. He’d have to control the urge to not itch at his skin and rub it raw later.

 

She rewards him with a smile and Lotor looks pleased. Keith assumed he made the right decision.

 

“That’s Acxa,” Ezor, or Ezzie, says excitedly while pointing towards a decently tall female. She had a resting bitch face, making him unable to get an automatic read on her. He supposed he’d have to be careful around her. Her eyes are a jaded blue, winged with light eyeliner, and inky black hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. It would seem she was a fan of blue as well, though the darker spectrum, if he had to go off of her nails and clothes. She didn’t look impressed at all, seemingly bored with him. Keith isn’t offended, so he just nods in greeting as Ezor excitedly bounded towards a much larger female.

 

She was a girl of darker skin. Not like Lance’s, but not quite like Allura’s. Somewhere in between. She was definitely fit and Keith wasn’t quite sure if it came down to it whether or not he’d actually be able to ward her off. If it did come down to it, he’d just have to hope for the best. Her hair was a messy pixie cut that winged off to the sides. It was an assortment of colors, mainly purples and pinks. He wondered how often she had to dye it to keep it looking that smooth.

 

“And this is Zethy! Or, Zethrid to you, I suppose.” Ezor hums out, clinging to the larger females, Zethrid’s arm. He notices Acxa moving a little closer to Ezor when she does, but he decides to write that off in favor of pretending to listen to the introductions that followed after the only females in the group. He could honestly care less. So.. he found his eyes wandering across the cafeteria to a table in a corner, away from windows and even the students.

 

There, Lance sits with two others.

 

One he notes as the big guy he wrote off in favor of Lance. So, he takes this opportunity to observe him, taking in the dark skin and the bright yellow he seemed to wear everywhere. Even in his chocolate locks, there was a sunflower yellow sweat-band. The second one, significantly smaller than the others, he hadn’t seen before. Not even during passing period, but then again this was technically only fourth period. He couldn’t tell their gender from afar, but he supposed it didn’t matter if he never talked to them. He notes that they had while chestnut hair, going in almost every direction, that stopped right above their shoulders and seemed to defy gravity. He couldn’t see their eye color from afar, but then again that wasn’t very important in the first place, due to their glasses. He took note that they had a common color in their outfit scheme: green. He briefly wondered if the group did it on purpose.

 

Keith notices the trio leaning in closer to one another after the small one looked over his way and then Lance did. Keith isn’t embarrassed, not in the slightest. Instead, he stares at him dead on and watches Lance squirm some. It’s a few minutes until he sees Lance saying something and moving to get up, turning to the restroom near their corner. Keith sees his opportunity and moves to stand up, but is stopped by a hand on his wrist.

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

Keith looks over at who is holding his wrist, pulling it away quickly and quirking an eyebrow at Lotor who looked serious, unlike the goofy expression he was wearing previously.

 

“And why not?” Keith finds himself questioning, not caring about how the chatter from the group around them all but ceased and several heads turned towards their direction.

 

“You will regret it, he isn’t worth it. Just leave him to me,” Lotor says and there isn’t room for argument in his tone. Keith doesn’t want to leave him. No, he wanted to chase after him and do, and do.. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he’d figure it out. Face turning just a tad bit colder, Keith leans back into his bean bag and turns away, leaving the conversation there. There wasn’t a point in continuing it, but that didn’t mean Lotor had won.

 

Lotor always got what he wanted, but that didn’t work with Keith.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Hey, buddy.. Are you alright?”

 

“Ye..Yeah, I’m good.” Lance says, pushing off of the ground from where he was hidden on the other side of the sink. He spots his best bud, the bigger male from the table, Hunk. He offers a small smile, moving to wash his hands. He hoped Hunk wouldn’t question why he did what he did, but he should have expected that he wouldn’t.

 

“What happened out there? Pidge and I are worried.”

 

“It’s just.. I was uncomfortable, that’s all. You know how it is with Lotor and his goons. Plus, you saw how he was staring at me in second period. It’s weird and it’ll bring nothing good, I’m sure of it.” He takes in a deep breath, shaking his hands and then grabbing a paper towel to dry them off. “Besides,  I’m sure Lotor will tell him the same thing he does everyone. Ya know, how I’m not to be bothered with and I’m his, yadda yada?” Lance sighs, patting Hunk’s shoulder. “Come on buddy, let’s not leave the gremlin out there by herself for too long. You know how she gets.”

 

“Right, right..” Hunk trails off, following Lance out of the bathroom. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, but he hoped for Lance’s sake that it was nothing bad.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith sits in the back for this class. He really didn’t see the point in this class, like, at all. Why did they have a class for “creativity” in the first place? So he could just stare at a wall until something magically popped up into his head? He could do that at home, if he actually wanted to. His head lightly hits the wall that was behind his chair from how he was leaning back.

 

There was a plus to this class, though. Lance was in it, but so was his two friends from the lunch table. It made it a bit harder to approach him because everytime he leaned forward to talk to him, they’d intercept. It made him a tad bit frustrated, but he’d keep his cool. He’d learnt from the past that not being patient wouldn’t get him anywhere. To top it off, one of Lotor’s gang members was in his class. He couldn’t remember their name, but he supposed it didn’t quite matter to him either way. It’s not like he’d be voluntarily talking to him anytime soon.

 

Keith leans a little bit forwards in his seat to peer over Lance’s shoulder from afar. He’s a tad bit interested, watching the boys hand move expertly over the paper while his big friend, Hunk he had overheard, worked on the other side in a similar manner. They were working together and it was shaping to become quite a picture: filled with flowers of all kinds, skulls, and several different body parts.

 

“You know, it’s rude to stare and watch someone. Especially without their permission. Why, I’d even say it’s a tad stalkerish,  _ new kid _ .” Sneers the smaller one, Pidge he thought he had overheard. Keith leans against his desk, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he regards Pidge with an unimpressed stare.

 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to be rude,” he stops and realizes he should probably at least sound a tab bit sincere with his apology. “I was simply interested in what they were working on.”

 

“You could have just asked and what about-”

 

“Pidge, that’s enough.” Lance says, stopping Pidge from continuing whatever she was going to say. He turns to face Keith, causing the black haired male to lose focus for just a second. “But, Pidge is right. You could have just asked instead of staring. Some might have gotten the wrong idea,” Lance remarks as he takes in Keith’s appearance. He was still a tad uncomfortable from earlier, but he supposed he didn’t mean any harm in it. Besides, if he did, it’s not like he wasn’t used to it in the first place.

 

“It’s quite intriguing, especially with the vines entwining around the fingers and digging beneath the nails. I’d dare say, it’s just the slightest beautiful in it’s own twisted way. Much like nature, I suppose.” Keith comments, eyes darting to the paper but not really parting from Lance for too long in case he missed his reaction.

 

Lance’s cheeks darken, flushing just a little at the compliment. “Ah, thank you.. But Hunk is the one who has done the most of it. I can barely draw a finger!” He chuckles, eyes darting to the side and Hunk looks up to speak without getting distracted.

 

“Don’t let him sell himself short, he has done his fair share of this and is just as talented.”

 

“I thought so,” Keith hums and leans back into his chair and takes in the different emotions running across Lance’s face. He decides he liked the pleasant ones the most.

 

“Hunk!” Lance sputters, but is stopped by their teacher clearing his throat.

 

“Please quiet down back there. We know how you can get, Mcclain, but this is a classroom.” A round of giggles follow after the teacher returns to his book and Lance slides down into his seat. Keith watches, a small frown pulling at his lips as Lance turns around.

 

“Hey, don’t let them control how happy you can be.” He says quietly. Lance turns around to face him again, offering a wolfish grin. “Of course not.”

 

Of course, no one back there really bought the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

As class went on, they all chatted and eventually Pidge and Hunk were comfortable enough to talk to Keith on their own. They were still slightly suspicious due to earlier, but Lance seemed to be past it so they didn’t want to press it.

 

*_*_*_*

 

As it turns out, they had several classes together. Though Keith would never admit it, it was nice to have someone he could get along with in a class with him. It was something he never quite got to experience at his previous schools.

 

“Hey, we have a study group on Fridays if you’d like to join us. I don’t think they’d mind,” Lance says quietly with his eyes still trained on their teacher in the front of the classroom, talking on and on about the different constellations and their origins. “I mean, if.. If you want to.” He looks a little nervous, almost expecting a rejection and Keith didn’t want to admit to how that made a dark feeling settle in his chest at the thought of him being rejected so much that this was his expectation.

 

“Sure, sounds good to me. I’d just have to make sure it’s okay with my parentals.”

 

Lance looks dazed and relieved all in one. “Wait, really?” It was clear from the tone in his voice that he hadn’t expected that to be Keith’s answer. After all, they hadn’t even known each other a full twenty-four hours and not to mention no one seemed to like Lance and his friends. Other than Lotor, but even that was questionable from Keith’s point of view.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Keith, Lance. If you could so kindly return your attention to the board, I was just about to go over Orion-”

 

Keith tunes her out, instead discreetly focusing on Lance and how pleased he looked.

 

Yes, he wanted to see  _ that  _ look more.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“How was your first day?” Shiro questions, popping his head into Keith’s room after knocking. He wore that ridiculous white and pink polka dot apron that Allura had bought him a few years back as a joke for his birthday. Of course, Shiro being Shiro would fall in love with it and wear it around the kitchen like it was every day wear. Keith notes the bit of batter and flour scattered across his face and body, briefly coming to the conclusion that he was baking.

 

“It.. wasn’t bad.” He replies, setting his book down. He knew his adoptive father well enough that he would not be enjoying his quiet solitude of reading for awhile. Shiro nods, accepting the answer.

 

“Anything interesting happen?” He pauses, a sly look splitting his face. “Meet anyone special?” Shiro waggles his eyebrows for effect.

 

Keith deadpans, letting out a blunt, “No.”

 

But, then again, was that entirely the truth? No, he supposed not, but that wasn’t Shiro’s business. Not until he had it figured out, not until he had  _ Lance  _ figured out.

 

Shiro lets out a sigh, expecting that answer. He kind of resembled a dejected puppy, but that trick didn't work on Keith. He hadn’t a single weakness or interest towards animals, especially pets. The only time he had a interest in one was when he was twelve and had drowned his guinea pig by filling up his tank with water. He hadn’t even been a year off of therapy when that incident happened and now here he was, several years later, and still going to see the same old man.

 

“Well.. dinner will be here in an hour. Your mom is bringing it home from your Papa’s house. He wanted to cook something for you to wish you good luck with finishing high school here at Altea.” At his nod, Shiro pauses by the doorway. “Would you mind helping me finish this cake? I’d love the extra help and it feels like we don’t bake with each other nearly as much as we used to.”

 

Now, that right there was a lie. Keith didn’t like baking, Shiro knew this, and he had only been forced to do so a handful amount of times. It was never willingly and it was only when Shiro wanted to have a talk. What it was about, Keith had no idea. Still, he stands up from his bed and follows Shiro to the kitchen without complaint.

 

“Mix this until there are no lumps. You know the drill,” Shiro says while passing a bowl and stirrer to him. He does so, leaning against the counter for support as Shiro worked setting the oven and letting it preheat.

 

“We talked to your therapist this afternoon.” Shiro comments after a minute or so, waiting to see if Keith would ask about what. When Keith wordlessly starts pouring the batter into the cake pan, he realized he should have just kept on talking. “He said that he didn’t think you’d need another session after this one and that as long as you kept practicing your techniques and taking the medicine that you should be good, but that he was always a call away if you needed it.”

 

“Okay.” Keith responds, passing the pan to Shiro to put into the over.

 

“That’s all you have to say to that?” Shiro places the pan into the oven carefully, making sure to angle it just right, and closing the door. “No happy dance, no cheering, nothing?” He questions, but he already knew the answer to that. He gets a shrug and he figures that’s better than nothing.

 

Keith hadn’t ever really been someone who actively showed how he felt or even thought of excitement. It was an entire concept that seemed unknown to him, apathetic in every way. It was sad to see, especially when he was such a young child when he first came into their care. When they had went over the file for him at the adoption agency, Allura had wept in his arms for an hour. They had to go home and talk it over before they had made their decision, even if the one they had made would be difficult. To this day, they had never once regretted it. Not when Keith had his first night terror and they had actually seen him cry. Not when Keith didn’t speak to them until almost a year into living with them. Not when he didn’t react outside of a few flinches and panic attacks when Allura, sometimes Shiro, neared him. No, they couldn’t regret it. They loved and had been through too much with to do so. Even if, to this day, Keith would still avoid being touched. Even though he was on medication to help with night terrors and reducing panic attacks. It was worth it as long as Keith was okay.

 

“You alright?” Keith questions, snapping Shiro out of his thoughts. Shiro offers a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head and getting flour all in his buzzed hair.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I was just thinking. You can go back to your room if you want, I won’t keep you from your book any longer.” Shiro chuckles and Keith nods before heading back to this room.

 

Sometimes, his movements seemed robotic but Shiro supposed that couldn’t be helped if that was how you coped after seven years of trauma.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Thirty minutes later, another knock sounds on his door and he puts his book down. He has to stifle a groan, he just wanted to read his book on Hitler in peace! Still, he stands up and opens the door while letting out a slightly grumpy, “Yes?”

 

“Just wanted to come get you for dinner.” Allura hums out, taking off her gloves. “Wash your hands and be out there in five, please.” She says, walking down the hall to hers and Shiro’s room. He briefly looks back at his bed, wondering how long dinner was going to take tonight. He supposed it really came down to whether or not Allura had a case and had to go to her office tomorrow. If she did, it most likely wouldn’t take long but then again, there was also the fact that she would probably bring up school and his therapist. He groans, closing his door and heading to the bathroom down the opposite way from his parents room.

 

Turning on the faucet, he stares down at his hands. There were several scars decorating his pale skin, some darker and others almost light enough that they aren't noticeable. He couldn’t recall where he got all of them, though he supposed some were from his past and others the present. Either way, it didn’t matter. He didn’t dwell much on them nor the roughness of his skin from the constant scrubbing he does to them when he has touch someone or when he remembers  _ them. _ He grits his teeth, shutting his thoughts off and pouring soap into his palm and starting to scrub at his hands.

 

He must have lost track of the time, because there was a knock on the bathroom door and Allura’s voice ringing from the otherside.

 

“Keith, honey, is everything alright in there?”

 

He pauses, mid-scrub, and stares at his hands. It was extremely raw, even bleeding in some cases. He rinses his hands off, not even hissing at the slight tingling and sting from how irritated his skin was.

 

“I’m fine, I’m coming out right now.” He calls out, drying off his hands. Keith’s violet orbs travel the expanse of the bathroom, searching for his gloves for instances like this but of course, they weren’t there. Shiro must have been cleaning earlier. He found himself wondering if the man ever stopped doing something. Deeming it  a lost cause, he sighs and exits the bathroom.

 

“The table is already set,” Allura says while she follows after Keith. After living with him for so long, of course she notices him trying to keep her attention away from his hands. She knew about his bad habit, it was something that the therapist had mentioned and they tried to stop. They, obviously, haven’t had much luck in that department. She lets out a soft sigh, giving Shiro a look from behind Keith before sitting down at their tiny, white round table.

 

The white table matched well with their kitchen. Several shades of white and grey could be found with random dashes of lilac and perhaps even black. It wasn’t what they intentionally sought when they bought the house, but the family hadn’t complained either. It suited them just fine.

 

As they prepare their plates, it is quiet except for the sound of utensils and silverware. It was comfortable, the family being used to it. It was an unspoken rule that they’d prepare their plates and eat together, but no talking would commence until after they had ate their fill. Though, Allura was tempted to break that rule as she eyed Keith’s plate and how bare it was. Now, they tried to give Keith as much freedom as they could but they still worried, of course they did. Especially after that little scare when he refused to eat.

 

“I’m not that hungry, I ate a big lunch.” Keith answers in explanation, meeting Allura’s not so discreet worried gaze. The second half had been a lie, but Shiro and Allura didn’t need to know that. The two adults accepted the explanation and the trio had begun to eat.

 

With plates stacked and stomachs full, for the most part, they sat in a moment of comfortable silence before Allura breaks it.

 

“So, how’d school go?”

 

“It went fine, nothing too special.  Just the same thing as last time,” Keith responds with the same thing as the last time they had changed his school. Of course, this time that wasn’t necessarily true. Something did happen, but he just wasn’t sure what it was. That’s when he remembered Lance’s proposal for Friday.

 

“Would you mind if I.. went out on Friday?” He asks, catching them off guard. Keith rarely asked to go anywhere, most of the time it was them sending him out on errands or trying to get him to get some sun. They did live near a beach, after all.

 

“Uh..” Allura turns to Shiro, quietly asking him what he thought. He offers a shrug in response and she nods at him before turning her attention to Keith.

 

“I don’t see a problem with it, we’ll just need to know where you’re going to be and when you’re going to be home.” She responds, moving to hold Shiro’s hand underneath the table. She feels his thumb run across hers and she smiles to herself.

 

“I’ll keep you updated.” Keith says, standing up. He pushes in his chair, collecting his dishes and taking them into the actual kitchen. He hears Allura and Shiro talking to one another, but he doesn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t his business and he wasn’t keen on eavesdropping. It wasn’t really his style, Lance aside. Instead, he focuses on washing his plate and fork. Something blue catches his eye when he leans over to place his plate and fork on the dish rack. He pauses, eyes focusing on the object that had caught his attention.

 

It was a bird.

 

The wind outside was light, only rustling the leaves just a bit that only a few leap off of the thin and thick branches alike to join in on nature's wild but gentle dance. The bird moves along the branch, appearing to not particularly have a destination as it looked this way and that. Even with the leaves and acorns or other things like petals flying into it’s range, it had no care. He could see its beak moving, probably chirping, tweeting- whatever it is that birds do- into the wind, singing it’s own song. The blue of the bird, in all of it’s darker shades, reminded him of something.

 

Dazzling blue with several other shades tangled with grey to form a ring, filled with all kinds of emotions. Some, Keith couldn’t place a feeling to but it didn’t stop him from picturing them. The way the colors were joined together, entwined and never parting, creating a picture that came across as the sea during a storm. Bright lightning among the dangerous and erratic waves of the sea, yet that stark blue still being ever as tempting. Just like Lance-

 

_ Crrk. _

 

_ Ding! _

 

_ Clatter. _

 

“Keith?”

 

Keith stares down at the floor, a dumbfounded feeling welling in his chest. He was  _ just  _ putting the plate down, so  _ why  _ was it  _ shattered  _ on the  _ floor. _ He doesn’t notice his hands shaking, even when he bends down to start picking up the glass but is stopped by the feel of a hand on his shoulder. He pauses, freezing actually, mid-squat.

 

“I’m sorry. I.. I didn’t mean to, I’ll cl..clean it up. I promise,” Keith starts moving to continue to pick up the plate but the hand on his shoulder squeezes just a bit tighter. His heartbeat spikes up, going faster as he looks up at the person, Shiro, who was holding his shoulder.

 

“Keith, no. It’s fine, just calm down. Allura and I can clean this up,” Shiro says.

 

He takes in the look in Keith’s eyes, seeing how lost he looked. This happened sometimes, when something broke. It’s why they tried not to let him zone out, sometimes when he gets startled he’d revert back to the same mindset as when he was seven. Keith never meant to do it, but it happened. Not so much recently, but it did. The triggers were usually the sound of something breaking, screaming, arguing, and being touched which- Shiro mentally panics, moving his hand away. Probably a bit too fast as Keith almost tips over.

 

“Just go rest. We’ve got this, okay, sweetie?” Allura says softly from the doorway, observing the scene.

 

Keith only nods dumbly, trying to school in his emotionless facade and regain feeling in his arms again. He was in for a long night, he could feel it.

 

*_*_*_*

 

A long night it indeed was.

 

It took him until five in the morning to finally sleep. He had stared up at his ceiling for hours, thinking about many things. He thought about his past, he thought about his first day at Altea, and he thought about  _ Lance  _ and about Friday.

 

Keith sits up, his black blanket and grey sheet pooling around his hips. He runs a hand through his hair, absentmindedly pulling at the tangles while he wakes up the rest of the way. He looks over at his alarm clock, squinting to figure out what time it was. It was a bit hard to see without his contacts or glasses. He sighs, deciding that it probably read six or something around there. Otherwise, Shiro or Allura would be coming in to see why he wasn’t already out in the living room, ready to go after breakfast.

 

He yawns, moving over to his closet to pull out a shirt and moving to his dresser to repeat the process but for a pair of jeans and boxers. He didn’t pay attention to what he grabbed, not really caring. He’d deal with that later, after he was fully awake. If he looked to disastrous, if Allura was home, he was sure she’d say something. Opening his bedroom door, he peers into the hallway. He looks both ways before he hears a voice in the kitchen. So, at least one of them was here and awake. Stepping back into his room temporarily, he grabs his phone, before heading to the bathroom.

 

Once there, he props his phone up in the cabinet at a safe angle to avoid water or getting knocked over. He hums to himself softly, scrolling through his music before picking something. With “ _ Rise up lights”  _ by The Used blasting in the bathroom, bouncing off the walls and even slipping beneath the door to ring out in the hallway, Keith steps into the shower after stripping.

 

Showering was nice.

 

The feeling of steamy water trailing down his skin, allowing himself to cleanse himself for a new day and to rid of the last. It was relaxing. Usually, anyway.

 

There were times when it was frantic, tight, and suffocating. That usually welcoming heat choking him, blocking his air, and frantic clawing at his skin.

 

Luckily, today was the former.

 

Keith didn’t dwell on “shower thoughts” as he washed himself. Instead, he busied himself by singing along with his music. It was a tad tougher to do so with this song due to it being near screaming with very little actual singing. It was still pleasant to his ears, welcomed anyway. This song traveled down to his core and it made it almost impossible to not at least mouth along the lyrics.

 

Keith.. Was actually a pretty good singer. He never actively used his voice for popularity and rarely sang in front of others. No, he preferred to keep that private. It was moments when he was humming, alone in his room, when he let down his shield some and sang about whatever it was playing. Sometimes he even went solo with his own lyrics and harmonies. It was a time for him to just be free, not trapped by his thoughts or that heavy feeling he so sought after. At that thought, his eyebrows furrow slightly and he finishes rinsing off, turning the knobs to the shower to cease the running water to nothing.

 

He’d focus on that thought later, he needed to finish getting ready to go to school (to see Lance).

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Keith-y! Over here,” hollers the red head, Eeyore or Ezzie.. Something like that. Reluctantly, but not letting it show, he heads over to where she was waving enthusiastically, practically on Lotor’s lap.

 

“Sup,” he says, waiting to see why he was called over, stopping a little bit away next to a guy that reeked and looked like he hadn’t bathed in  _ weeks. _ He slowly edged a bit further away, watching Lotor.

 

“We just wanted to hang with you, is all. Please, sit down,” Lotor says in a friendly manner. Keith looks around, trying to find an open space and finds one beside the big one, Zethrid, from yesterday. Nonetheless, he sits down and does his best to get comfortable on the couch. They were in the cafeteria, in the same general area as they were during lunch yesterday.

 

“So, are you enjoying your time here thus far?” Lotor asked after a minute or so, breaking away from the flirting Ezor had started up. Keith briefly takes note of the pout pulling at her bright blue lips. Blue.. Blue. His mind drifts to bright blue eyes and tan skin, but he quickly stops it after recalling Lotor’s words yesterday. It didn’t really worry him, but he’d rather not cause problems so early on. He did want to graduate, contrary to his therapist and past principals beliefs.

 

“I suppose.” Keith supplies as an answer. Lotor raises an eyebrow at the short response, but writes it off.

 

“That’s better than it being absolutely dreadful.” Lotor hums, a thoughtful look taking over his facial features as he drags out, “though I do recall this one time we didn’t get to a student fast enough. She was a transfer student, poor thing was practically eaten alive by the student body.”

 

“Oh, yes, I remember her.” Ezor chimes in, a sly smirk pulling at her lips. “If I remember correctly, it was Mcclains doing as well. He was jealous of her, for whatever reason escapes my memory.” She pauses, looking over at Lotor and pressing to his side. “Isn’t that right, LoLo?”

 

“In short, yes.”

 

“Mcclain?” Keith questions, wondering if it was a first name or a last name.

 

“Lance Mcclain,” supplies Acxa from where she was sitting as she stood up. “I have to go now, I’ll see you all at lunch.” She excuses herself, making a speedy get-a-way. Lotor watches her with a frown, but doesn’t comment.

 

Lance.. Keith had only known him for a day, but something told him that this wasn’t the actual story of what happened. Still, he needed to play his cards right.

 

“I see.”

 

Lotor looks like he is about to say something, but the bell rings. He scowls and digs into his pocket, digging out his phone and passes it to Keith.

 

“Put your number in here so we can contact you.”

 

Without questioning it, Keith did so.

 

“Expect a text soon,” Lotor comments as he walks away after taking his phone back, the group quickly dispersing afterwards.

 

Left alone, Keith starts to slowly walk to his first period. He didn’t really want to go, but he didn’t have a choice. All it took was one mistake and he was out, forced to go to homeschool or just not graduate. Being a senior did have its perks though. Among those was having class slots to fill how he liked, which was why he found himself in the Fine Arts hall heading to Dance. However, brown and blue catch his eye and stops, immediately heading out to it.

 

“Lance!” He calls out, trying to catch up to him.

 

The brunet in question stops, causing Keith to run into him from not stopping quickly enough.

 

“Hey! Watch it- Oh, hey, Keith.” Lance says, sounding irritated at first but his voice losing the tone when he realized who it was. “What’s up?”

 

“I uh..” Keith’s mind short circuits, not something he was fond of. He wasn’t quite sure  _ why  _ he had decided to call out and follow after Lance. Glancing down, he spots his phone and a reason forms on the tip of his tongue but the minute bell rings.

 

“Oh no. Listen, catch me later, but I’m about to be late and I don’t want another lunch detention after today. See you later!” Lance says hurriedly, taking off down the hallway in a careful sprint. Keith watches him go, letting out a sigh. He turns around, but not quick enough to spot someone purposely knocking into Lance’s shoulder and off centering him some, but quickly moving along.

 

Keith’s eyebrows furrow and he decides, on a whim, to whip out his phone and snap a picture of them: blond, green eyes, caucasian. Of course.

 

Afterwards, he quickly jogs to the dance studio while making a promise.

 

_ He just wasn’t quite sure what that promise was. _

 

*_*_*_*

 

The rest of the school day passes by without incident. Keith had actually found common ground with Pidge, the short friend of Lance’s. It seemed they both enjoyed reading into Cryptids. However, Keith wouldn’t say he was particularly fond of the girl yet. He didn’t expect to develop any feelings in the first place, it was something that just never happened.

 

Which was why it made Lance stand out even more.

 

Why did this, this  _ boy  _ intrigue him so?

 

It was almost torture, having him being brought up into his thoughts at unforgivable and the most random of times.

 

Keith stares down at his phone, chewing on his bottom lip slightly as his thumb hovers above the keypad. Lance’s number was displayed at the top of the screen, opened up in “messages.” He had asked for a way to contact him, using Friday as an excuse, and had been debating with himself for the last thirty minutes during the drive to his therapists office. He waved off Shiro’s concerned looks, instead racking his brain for what to say.

 

Keith wasn’t a man of words. He was barely a man of  _ anything _ , which made it that much harder.

 

**To:** Lance M.

**Subject:** Study session.

**From:** Keef (Keith)

**__________________________**

_ Hey, this is my number. It’s _

_Keith, by the way…_ **(5:40 p.m)**

 

**To:** Keef (Keith)

**Re: Subject:** Study Session

**From:** Lance M.

**__________________________**

_ Heyyyy!!! Are you excited for _

_ Friday? ‘Cus I am!  _ **(5:45 p.m)**

 

Keith found that Lance was a quick responder. He quickly sent a response, something along the lines of “yes,” before slipping his phone into his pocket in the front of his jeans after unbuckling his seatbelt when the car came to a stop.

 

“Do you want me to go in with your or wait in the lobby this time?” Shiro questions, unbuckling as well, and settling his gaze on Keith.

 

“You can sit in the lobby if you want to, I don’t really care.” Keith says, shrugging as he opened the car door and steps out. He stretches, popping his neck and back in the process. After hearing the telltale of the car locking, Keith heads towards the building and enters with Shiro following closely behind him.

 

“Ah, my favorites!” Purrs a plump woman, offering a sickeningly sweet smile towards Shiro as her eyes rake up and down his body. Shiro shifts, uncomfortable but offers the clipboard she offers towards him with her dainty hand, long nails scratching across the paper as she taps the usual stuff that Shiro and Allura had been accustomed to, coming here for ten years. The length of her nails had always caught his attention, not quite understanding why she insisted on having them so long that they rivaled catwoman's and could probably be just as lethal. He couldn’t comprehend how she got  _ anything  _ done with those.

 

Shiro quickly fills out the paperwork, signing in Keith.

 

Once they were seated, the older man excitedly turned to Keith with a big grin. “Last time, kiddo!”

 

Keith recalls a time that Shiro had uttered the same words to him before, the time before the hamster incident, and had shown just the same amount of enthusiasm. He wished he could relate.

 

“Preferably,” he settles with as his response. Shiro seems to accept it, turning to the magazine rack near them. He pulls off a random magazine, Keith observing the cover and figuring it was aimed towards the females of the population though that didn’t matter much with Shiro. The man avoided gender roles like the plague.

 

“Keith Kogane?”

 

His head turns slowly to the door, the same door he has had to walk through many times in various different states but usually the same: indifferent. He raises his hand and the woman holding a clipboard offers a small smile, beckoning him forwards. Keith notes that he hadn’t seen her before, wondering if she was perhaps new to the staff.

 

“Go on ahead, I’ll wait out here, okay?” Shiro says, offering an encouraging smile and wave.

 

Either way, it made no difference to him whether Shiro would have went or if he had stayed like he was doing now.

 

At least, that’s what he thought as he headed into the back and towards the very same office he had seen many times throughout his years with the Shirogane's.

 

“Welcome Keith, please take a seat.”

 

Keith does so, plopping down into his usual spot: the sofa on the left-most cushion near the corner of the room. From there, he observed his therapist. He was a chipper man, usually wearing bright colors. He couldn’t recall a single time that the ginger, Coran, had shown any negative emotion except for the one time when he had accidentally snipped a little too much off of his mustache that almost completely covered his top lip and curled off to the side. He watches him set down stacks of papers, sorting through things before finally focusing on Keith with a cheery smile.

 

“How are we today, my boy?”

 

“Same as usual.”

 

“I see.” Coran has a clipboard on his lap, keeping a giant journal open and his pen lightly gliding across the surface in chicken scratch. Keith had seen how the man writes. It wasn’t neat and barely legible. It was atrocious and gave him a headache. Keith lets his eyes wander around the room, noting that absolutely nothing but the clutter on his desk had changed since his last visit the other week.

 

“Are we any closer to figuring out that feeling you keep describing?”

 

Keith pauses, debating his answer.

 

“My parents think it’s love.” He decides, leaning further into the couch and closing his eyes.

 

“And do you agree? We’ve talked about this several times now.” The unspoken “what other name is there” hung heavy in his mind.

 

“I know..” Keith trails off, Lance popping up into his head.

 

No, he didn’t love Lance. He barely knew him. And yet, this strange and strong, dark, feeling was all grasping at the boy and had Keith swearing in his head trying to sort it all out. Right now, the feeling wasn’t very large. It was  _ just there. _ Though, he supposed that was a good thing. There’s no telling what kind of trouble he’d be getting caught up in. Still, Lance was something that interested him and that, in itself, was something else. He opens an eye, looking at Coran and wondering if that was something he should tell him or not. Keith didn’t really see the point if this was supposedly their last meeting.

 

“Alright, then. Any other news? Night terrors, panic attacks, things of the like?” Coran questions. He doesn’t sugarcoat his questions or what he wants to discuss with Keith. He had learned in the past that, that method would get him nowhere with the quiet male.

 

“I started to freak out when I zoned out and broke a plate. No one got hurt this time, though.”

 

Coran nods, marking that down. There had been a few times where Keith had flipped out so badly that he had caused injury to either himself or someone else trying to calm down. Often, it was Allura on the receiving end but that wasn’t an easy topic. Keith didn’t like talking about why women, or people in general, touching him affected him so negatively.

 

“And your school life?”

 

Keith thinks back to Lotor, his gang, and then Lance with his friends. He wonders just what to say, what was expected of him. He didn’t quite know what to respond with, so he just shrugged. The rest of the meeting continued on like that. No progress was made, though that hardly mattered at all since Coran had confirmed that he wouldn’t be seeing him again after this. There was only so much you could do before having to stop, especially in the duration of 10 years.on

 

“Do take care, Keith. I’d rather see you at family reunions, unrelated to work, than in my office!” Coran chirps, hand resting on Keith’s back as he led him out and into the lobby. Keith had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened or started, but at some point Coran had inserted himself into his family's life. It started with his Papa, Alfor, and then everyone just kind of.. Let him in. It wasn’t exactly professional and no one spoke about it, so it wasn’t common knowledge at Coran’s work.

 

“Of course.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith sighs, rubbing at his eyes and smearing his eyeliner everywhere. It was one of those nights where he had fallen asleep at his desk, light on, and not in any way prepared to sleep. He looks over at his clock, making out the number twelve.

 

“Great, just great..” He mutters and sits up. He closes his book, straightening up. He goes to the bathroom to remove his makeup and brush his teeth, coming back into his room once had finished.

 

Right when he was reaching to remove his shirt, his phone goes off. He bites back a groan, just wanting to be left alone despite not ever really getting notifications aside from the ones that his parents and Lance had sent. But, that was rare and none of them were the ones that had shown up on his phone. He squints, reading it out loud.

 

_ “Meet up at one a.m at the park in Daibazaal hills. Near the woods. Don’t be late.” _


	2. Building Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes being alive wasn’t bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm back with another update! Honestly, I'm not too happy with this one. I had a bit of a difficult time ending it, but I didn't want to get too far ahead into the story in just two chapters, ya know?
> 
> Reminder that this is all leading up to a school shooting in an eventual chapter. This is not a light, fluffy walk.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Violence. Anger/Violent outbursts. Abuse. Referenced internalized homophobia. Child abuse. Referenced alcoholism. Referenced underage drinking. Mention of character death. Bullying. Possessiveness. Not okay behavior. Panic Attack. Referenced inappropriate things (I tried to be subtle so you can figure what's going on).  
> If I need to add anything else, tell me.
> 
> I also made a playlist of the songs I listen to while writing: https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7FXvLTOf40hKO8yfzu4UPBXauly8pTlO
> 
> Previous Character BG:  
> Allura:  
> Shiro’s wife. Her family founded “Altea” several years ago. It’s a pretty old school, though it has been remodeled. She, herself, as well as her father had attended it growing up. Her and Shiro are high school sweethearts. She is sterile, unable to conceive, which had pained her and Shiro for many, many years. Adoption was actually their last resort. For a living, she is an attorney and is an active protester. Her current age is 40. She tries to understand Keith, but has a difficulty understanding him the majority of the time. Out of the family, she is probably the one that Keith isn’t that close to. It would seem he much prefers Shiro and had seemed to always do so. No one is sure why, exactly, but a counsellor had mentioned it might have something to do with Keith’s past before he was put into their care. She was 30 when they adopted Keith. In High-school, she enjoyed cheerleading. She tried taking up cooking, but didn’t have the skill for it so Shiro took over. She makes up for it by cleaning when she has the time, though. When she has free time (to herself), she most often spends it watching K-Dramas and soap operas. She was quite fond of theatrics but lacked the talent for it, even though no one really told her otherwise. Her and Shiro challenge each other while working out, both being competitive.

It was against his better judgement that Keith found himself at the park.

 

He juts out his bottom lip slightly, eyes sweeping across the dimly lit, by a few and very scarce street-lamps, area. It was quiet, nothing but the sound of nature flooding into his ears. He could faintly hear crickets and perhaps even those green things. What were they called? Frugs? Frogus? Frogs- He couldn't remember and he couldn't find it within himself to care. A soft sigh passes through his lips, head tilting further back to rest against the tree he had been leaning against for the better part of thirty minutes.

 

It was one thirty in the morning and whoever had contacted him was late, which irritated him like a mosquito during a hot summer night or the fourth of July.

 

“Keith? Is that you?” Calls out a feminine voice. Keith vaguely recognizes the voice.

 

What was that girls name again? Ezzrie? Easy? Ezzie- Eh, he figured it all meant the same thing in the end.

 

“Yo,” he responds with a lazy wave in the dark rather than actually answering her question.

 

He can see her shadowy figure, watching it move into a jog towards him. As she came closer, he noticed the wreck that was her clothes and normally flawless, questionable, makeup. He hears her sniffle and his body tenses when she flings herself at him. She barrels into his chest while letting out pitiful whimpers.

 

It reminded Keith a lot of  _ her  _ and  _ them _ . His heart picks up speed and he roughly shoves her away. She stumbles, watching him with a dumb look on her face as he moved away from the tree and her.

 

If she were closer then she’d hear his labored breathing.

 

Keith looks anywhere but at her and that upsets her, so she takes a step closer to him and he takes one back with a narrowed look written on his apathetic, though slightly sweaty now, face.

 

“K..Keith-!” She whines out, making one more grabby motion towards him but he avoids her.

 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He grits out, his fight or flee instincts rearing up their head.

 

”What's wrong with  _ me _ ? I just wanted to ha..” She hiccups, crocodile tears smearing down her face. “I just wanted to have fun!” She shouts, voice echoing and Keith crosses his arms.

 

“Oh, there you are.”

 

Keith turns his head just as Ezor does to find Lotor walking towards them at a pace of his own preference.

 

“Go away!” The only female there huffs, crossing her arms and turning away from Lotor. She even goes as far to move away from him when he stands beside her.

 

“Come on, you said you would do  _ anything  _ for me. Why are you acting like this now?” Lotor asks, eyebrows furrowed together as he stares at Ezor. It would seem both of them had forgotten about Keith and he wonders if he should slip away or not, but the text kept resurfacing in his mind.

 

“She’s my friend and your cousin, Lotor!” Ezor glares at him, stomping her foot slightly. “Not even drunk me would stoop that low. Find someone else to do it.” And with that, she angrily but sloppily stomps away.

 

Lotor sighs, running a hand through his hair before his eyes catch Keith’s. “Do you mind helping me out with something?”

 

Keith lifts an eyebrow, wondering just what it was. It was a bit of a shock to see Ezor upset at something Lotor proposed, drunk or not, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn't just the tiniest bit curious.

 

“I need you to teach a lesson to one of my gang members. I would do it, but I'm already preoccupied with something for my father.”

 

“At nearly two in the morning?” Keith deadpans and Lotor just mutters something about family differences.

 

“Are you up to it or not?”

 

Keith took a minute to think it over. On one hand, this would put him in slightly better graces with Lotor and hopefully would give him less reason to keep an eye out on him.  Keith wasn't dumb, he knew when someone was watching him and Lotor certainly had  _ someone  _ keeping tabs on him. On the other, he had the text message meet up but the person wasn't here nearly an hour later and Keith certainly wasn't a patient man at such early hours. Plus, he was bored and felt an itch in his skin to do  _ something  _ to help bounce back from the Ezor incident.

 

“Fine.” Lotor claps his hands in satisfaction at his answer. “What do I do?”

 

“Go here,” the blond hands him a yellow sheet of paper with an address on it, “and wear this.” Lotor hands him a black mask which raises his suspicions but decides against questioning it.

 

“I want you to-”

 

*_*_*_*

 

It was strange being here.

 

He certainly didn't belong here, even as he explored the room. He sets a white bag underneath the vacant pillow next to the sleeping form on the Queen sized bed.

 

He should probably feel guilty, but he didn't really. He felt nothing.

 

Not even as he set a cigarette between her fingertips and lit the end.

 

When he walked away, he marvelled at how beautiful fire was. What with the dancing flames that hungrily lapped at and dominated anything and everything it could touch.

 

It was ethereal.

 

*_*_*_*

 

It was after his shower and when Keith was finally getting ready to sleep at four in the morning that his phone buzzed again with a message from that same unknown number.

 

_ “You did a dazzling job today. It's sure to spread like a wildfire tomorrow.” _

 

Keith sets his phone down, finding himself too tired to dwell on the message. It wasn't worth it. Whoever it was would accidentally give themselves away eventually. Though, Keith had a suspect already in mind as he drifted to sleep.

 

It was only about two hours later that his alarm started going off. His hand sluggishly lashed out, trying to find the source of his agitation. Not finding it, he lifts up his head and glares at it.

 

If looks could cause harm, that clock would have been burnt to ashes and scattered over his guinea pigs grave in the next town over.

 

Reluctantly, he peels himself from his bed, standing up and reaching for his phone. No notifications, though he hadn't expected anything more. With a sigh, he picks out some clothes without processing what he was actually grabbing. Keith didn't care about what he looked like, it was a waste of time fretting over the little things like that.

 

Maybe it's his lack of care for his appearance that gives people a bad taste in their mouths when they mention him?

 

He heads to the bathroom, noting somewhere within his mind that the t.v was on and that meant Allura was home. Once inside, he rubs at his eyes some before reaching for his toothbrush and toothpaste. The smell of peppermint wafts through the air and Keith finds hidden content in the smell that has carried him so far in his life: always the one thing constant.

 

Popping the toothbrush into his mouth after lathering toothpaste on it in an orderly line, Keith picks up his phone and scrolls through his music. He wasn’t really in the mood to listen to it, but he always did it in the mornings and today shouldn’t be an exception. They would get suspicious and he didn’t feel like thwarting off his guardians. It was always bothersome.

 

So,  _ Other side  _ by  _ New Years Day  _ blasts through the thin walls and from the door.

 

Keith hums along, scrubbing his teeth with a lot of concentration even though most people do it on autopilot. Then again, he wasn’t like normal people. He had to have it done just right or it’d affect him all day long, much like last night will probably do. For someone who displays such little emotion, it’s always small things like something new popping into his view or accidentally touching something for the briefest amounts of time that’ll set him off and have him silently seething all day until one unlucky soul nudges him just the wrong way.

 

Clearing his mind, he spits out the toothpaste and repeats a couple of times. By then, the previous song is over and Keith is rinsing his mouth out while  _ Broken  _ by  _ Lund  _ is playing.

 

His eyebrow twitches, fingers curling just the slightest while the song plays.

 

_ “Will you end my pain?” _

 

He grits his teeth, ignoring the next few lyrics as he moves to take off his shirt probably pulling a little too hard and too fast.

 

_ “Will you take my soul-” _

 

Don’t.

 

_ “-in the midnight rain.” _

 

Don’t do it.

 

_ “While I’m falling apart.” _

 

God damn it.

 

_ “While I’m going-” _

 

Keith rips his shirt off the rest of the way, throwing it aggressively towards his phone, effectively knocking it off from where it was perched on the counter.

 

_ “-insane.” _

 

Thump.

 

_ Crack. _

 

Keith stares, his breathing heavy while he trembles and huffs about. He could feel his eye twitching, it progressively increasing the longer he stared at his now broken phone.

 

Slowly, he moves his eyes away from the cracked and broken phone. Instead, he eyes himself in the mirror. He takes in himself, looking at his mess of ink hair, the paleness of his skin, and the otherwise emotionless state of his face other than the way his pupils had dilated.

 

Keith could feel it.

 

He could feel it bubbling within his veins.

 

That urge to do something, to not question, and to just do  _ it. _ And the longer he resisted, the more he trembled and shook.

 

He could not believe it.

 

He  _ could not  _ believe it.

 

Violet orbs flicker between the mirror and the shattered phone, rapidly speeding.

 

Faster, faster, faster and  _ faster _ -

 

“God damn it!” Keith yells, frustration clear in his voice.

 

_ Crack. _

 

_ Shatter. _

 

_ And clatter. _

 

His fists continuously pound into where the mirror had been, blood seeping from his hands and glass buried within. But, that didn’t stop him.

 

He lets out growls until eventually he uses a little to much strength and sends himself forwards just a bit, but just enough for him to knock his head into some of the mirror that hadn’t been shatter by his fists. Instead of moving back, he just rests his head there and slowly drags his fists down from the remains of the glass- most likely having glass moved and embedded even deeper into his hands.

 

Keith just rests there, breathing heavy but slowly starting to simmer.

 

“Keith?”

 

Fuck.

 

“Are you okay? I heard you screaming.”

 

He’d been screaming? That’s news to him.

 

“I’m fine.” He mutters, not moving away from where he was leaning.

 

_ Creak. _

 

The door is opening and in walks Allura, one of the last people he wanted to see right now. He’d much rather be alone, not having an audience. Though, being alone was what got him in this mess in the first place. He should have stopped that song as soon as it came on. Nothing good came out of it.  _ Ever. _

 

“Oh my god..” Allura breathes out, Keith could imagine her petite hand coming to rest against her red stained lips. She had always done that whenever something like this had happened. Throughout the years, Keith had memorized that look. He detested it.

 

“Okay, so we need to get the bleeding to stop first and foremost. Then.. We’ll call your father and we’ll go to the emergency room-” Allura rambles and Keith tunes her out. He was used to this protocol. This wasn’t his first bout of destruction. Sighing, he finally removes his head from where it connected with the mirror. He scrunches his nose up slightly, not really liking the feeling of blood trickling. He didn’t particularly mind the pain, though.

 

It meant he could feel.

 

“Keith.”

 

“What,” he looks at Allura and observes the frown pulling down at her lips.

 

“I’m going to have to touch you, will you be alright?” She asks, a slightly softer expression in her eyes but the worry was there. This inevitable, he knew it. Still, he could feel the thought trickling down his body like millions of tiny spiders. He tensed, but nodded. He had to.

 

“Alright, here I go.” She says after rummaging around the cabinets for the supplies needed for cleaning him up.

 

Allura’s touch is always gentle, motherly in a sense. It was almost not there, but Keith knew. He  _ always  _ does. Keith turns his attention away from where she was dabbing at his hands with a cloth that had hydrogen peroxide on it. The feeling was barely there, even though he tried to concentrate on the cloth and not the fact that it was  _ her  _ doing the action.

 

He knew Allura was glancing up at him every now and then, checking on him. Still, he didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he chose to stare at a wall. They really needed to paint, it was too plain in here. Maybe a soft grey- Keith’s eyes snap towards his hand where Allura had pressed something cold and hard against his skin. Millions of things run through his head.

 

_ “You know what this is for, right?” _

 

Breathe.

 

_ “Aw, he’s shy~ How cute!” _

 

You’re fine.

 

_ “Go on, touch it.” _

 

“-eith.”

 

_ “Use it- ahh, there you go! Just a little more-” _

 

“Keith.”

 

_ “Such a good, sweet boy.” _

 

“Keith!”

 

His eyes feel irritated and he couldn’t see that well, less than normal without his contacts and glasses. When did the room get so hot? God, it was hard to breathe. And he felt gross.

 

“Keith, are you with me?” Allura asks softly, a concerned look etched onto her face. She wasn’t touching him anymore, but Keith could see the tweezers in her hand. So, that was what had touched him. He frowns, trying to blink away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. He refused to shed a tear on the past. No, he would not be weak.

 

“I’m fine.. Thank you.” He says, sighing and leaning his back against the counter.

 

He just wished for this to all end.

 

*_*_*_*

 

He frowns at his phone, brown brows furrowed.

 

“Why isn’t he answering?” He huffs, leaning into his chair and crossing his arms as a pout settles on his face.

 

“I’m sure he has a reason, Lance.” Pidge chimes in, leaning her head against the cubans shoulder.

 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t here in second period!” Lance exclaims, worry on his face.

 

“Lance, dude, chill. You only met him yesterday and, I hate to be this person but correct me if I’m wrong, weren’t you creeped out by him?” Hunk pipes in, bushy black eyebrows raised and a questioning look on his face.

 

“Well, a  _ little _ . But, we’ve talked a lot and he seems nice!” Lance defends, slumping over onto his desk. Pidge and Hunk share a look. “I just thought that I’d finally have another person to talk to, you know? Not many actually take time to  _ talk. _ ”

 

“We understand, buddy. We do, really,” Hunk starts and rests a hand on Lance’s shoulder as Pidge does the same. “But, sometimes things happen, you know?”

 

“Yeah, yeah..” Lance trails off, closing his eyes. “Maybe something did come up.”

 

“It is reasonable,” Pidge agrees and the topic is dropped.

 

*_*_*_*

 

 _Dear Mother,_ _September 12th, 2017_

 

_ They think I should keep recording these, even though no one will ever listen. Still, I obediently oblige their wishes just like I did yours. It’s what you and he would have wanted, right? Of course it is. I am your obedient little money making doll after all. No matter how many years have passed by, I can still remember you and everything else. I hope you’re happy, you know in your whores nest in that place Christian people are always cramming down “sinners” throats- What is it.. Ah, yes. Hell.  _ **I hope you burn.**

 

*_*_*_*

 

It was Thursday, September 14th, and Keith has been M.I.A for three days counting today.

 

Lance huffs, glaring down at his phone that was in his lap. If only he knew where he lived-

 

“Are you alright, Lancey?” Lotor purrs, pulling Lance closer into his side, into his ear causing said boy to shiver out of disgust. “You shouldn’t make such faces, it might permanently ruin your already average face.” He sneers and Lance bites his lip, biting back a smart remark at the same time.

 

He could hear Ezor giggling at that remark into her manicured hand, giving Lance a nasty look from where she was perched on some of boys lap. Lance averted his eyes when the two noticed and the males hand started roaming her- Nope, ignore it.

 

“Aww, are you jealous? I could fix that, you know,” Lotor purrs and starts rubbing circles into Lance’s jean covered thigh.

 

It wasn’t like that. Not at all. It was more of a ‘are you serious’ kind of looking because they are in  _ school _ . But, of course, no one else seemed to care.

 

“No.”

 

“Pardon?” Lotor falters, rearing his head to watch Lance closely.

 

“I said no. Not today, not later- not ever.” Lance grits out. He was more than frustrated. First, Keith disappears. Second, no one seems concerned. And lastly, Lotor and his crew bothering him like they always did. Lance wouldn’t deal with it today. So, he hastily gets up and removes himself from Lotor’s, previous, iron hold.

 

Lance doesn’t move very far before Zethrid is blocking his way with a couple of Lotor’s guys. He narrows his blue eyes, getting ready to bark at her to move when he realizes Lotor had regained his composure and grabbed ahold of his wrist in a bruising manner.

 

“You will not speak to me in such a matter,” his grips tightens, “do you understand me?”

 

Lance doesn’t make any indication to answer him, instead becoming increasingly annoyed as he tries to pull away. When he realizes that he can’t just break away and the grip was tightening, a bit of fear jolted through him.

 

He fucked up.

 

“Have it your way then. Excuse us, you won’t be seeing us for the rest of lunch.” Lotor grits out, standing up and walking away quickly while pulling Lance behind him, roughly.

 

Ezor whistles, removing herself from the guys lap.

 

“He had it coming,” she says and sits down where Lotor had been previously. She stretches out, her shirt rising to reveal her skin and her skirt doing the same. It was a bit of a mystery how she never got dress coded, but a girl wearing leggings and a t-shirt does in her place. Though, her hanging out with Lotor probably had something to do with it. No one wanted to piss him off and messing with someone that was in his group spelled trouble.

 

“Has anyone heard from Acxa?” She questions, a pout forming on her bright blue lips.

 

“You haven’t heard?”

 

“Haven’t heard what?” She asks, blue eyebrows scrunching together. She didn’t like not knowing things. It was her job to know everything and to be able to tell it to Lotor.

 

“Her house caught on fire and she was suspected to have been the one who started it. Plus, she got caught with drugs.” Zethrid explains, cracking her neck.

 

“WHAT!?”

 

“Chill, it was bound to happen to one of us eventually-”

 

“No, no,  _ no! _ This is  _ wrong,  _ it shouldn’t have happened- I said no,” Ezor rambles and Zethrid watches her with a confused expression on her face.This goes on for a few minutes until eventually the bigger girl lightly pats Ezor on the head.

 

“Calm down.” She states bluntly and Ezor blinks, staring at her before nodding slowly.

 

“Yeah, yeah.. You’re right. I’m just  _ worried. _ ” Ezor confesses, hugging her legs to her chest causing her skirt to bunch up in between her stomach and thighs.

 

“She’ll be fine. You know Acxa, she’ll pull through.” Zethrid says, trying to lift the girls hopes up.

 

“I’m so sure about this time.” Ezor comments, shaking her head. Her eyes travel their group, noticing they are missing someone other than Lotor and Acxa. “Where is Keith?”

 

“He has been gone for a few days, no one has heard anything. Why?”

 

“Just wandering,” she mutters and pulls out her phone.

 

_ To: My prince <3 (Lotor) _

_ Subject: Things to know _

_ From: Ezzie (Ezor) _

_ _____________________________ _

_ Hey, Keith has been missing from _

_ the group and school since Tues- _

_ day. _

 

_ To: Ezzie (Ezor) _

_ Re-Subject: Things to know _

_ From: My prince <3 (Lotor) _

_ ________________________________ _

_ Noted, thank you for telling me. _

 

_ To: My prince <3 (Lotor) _

_ Re-Subject: Things to know _

_ From: Ezzie (Ezor) _

_ ______________________________ _

_ Anything for you. <3 _

 

Ezor sighs, locking and closing her phone as the bell rings.

 

“Guess we better get going, huh?” She smiles, standing up and grabbing her bag.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Thought you could be brave, huh?” Spats Lotor, using his hold on Lance’s wrist to roughly bring him into the bathroom and shove him into a stall. There, the cuban stumbles and sloppily catches himself before he fell into the toilet. Lotor observed his wild, blue orbs and the way he could tell and hear the rapid breathing of the other male by the rapid rising of his chest. He imagined his heart was beating several miles per minute. In a way, he looked like a frightened animal who had been cornered by a predator. In that sense, that was correct.

 

Lotor is predator and Lance is the meek, little prey.

 

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Lotor approaches him, taking satisfaction in the way he could see Lance tensing. “Aren’t you going to say anything? I’m waiting Lance and you know how much I hate waiting.” Lotor crosses his arms, glaring at the other.

 

“I’m s..sorry, I’ve just be..en in a ro..ough spot lately.” Lance mumbles, eyes roaming wildly for an escape route.

 

“And you think that makes it okay to sass and  _ reject  _ me?”

 

“N..No..” Lance whispers and he completely expects the kick at his feet, causing him to lose his bearings and collapse into the open toilet seat. He could feel the water seeping through his jeans, slowly leaking into his boxers.

 

“Listen here, you brat.” Lotor seethes, gripping Lance harshly by his chin and taking pride in the way he flinches. “You will  _ never  _ act like that again or next time, it will be much worse than what I am about to do. Do you understand me?”

 

“Yes, s..sir..” Gasps out Lance as he feels Lotor’s hands slowly creeping to his neck, there he feels his throat constrict with Lotor’s fingers. Tears prick at his eyes, whimpers wanting to escape from his throat but clogged by the way his passageways were forced to be shut.

 

“You know I love you, why do you do this?” Lotor whispers, letting go after about fourteen seconds had passed by and Lance had gone slack, eyes rolling into the back of his head when he passed out. He pulls away, dusting his hands off on his own pants before looking at Lance with a critical eye. He deserved this.

 

Pivoting out of the stall, Lotor looks both ways before sprinting to the office with a concerned look plastered on his face. Swinging the door open, he is stopped by the receptionist. He couldn’t remember her name, not that he cared much to do so in the first place, but she was notorious for being nosey and having bright colored hair year round. It was annoying and unprofessional, really.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asks in an obnoxiously high voice, eyeing Lotor and how he was heaving with a look of horror and worry plastered on.

 

“Lance, he- he’s- bathroom- not responding-” Lotor tries to explain, working himself up and catching the attention of everyone.

 

“Alright, alright- Calm down, we’ll handle this. He’ll be fine,” the receptionist says trying to get Lotor to calm down. She looks over at the student aide and mouths ‘go get the nurse.’ Once the nurse has joined them, he is considerably more calm and innerly smirking. It was all falling into place. “Show us to him, please.”

 

Lotor nods and leads the way.

 

*_*_*_*

 

The car ride home was quiet.

 

Stiflingly so and it was almost like he was being strangled by it, much like he had been earlier.

 

“Alright, we’re home.” His mother says, parking the car on the road in front of their small house.

 

Their home was nothing special. It was small, crumbling, and old.. But, it held many memories. All of his siblings had lived here at some point, before they went out and joined the world.. Leaving their little old house behind and becoming successful in their life. It still hurt to think about how much better their lives were, not having to worry about rent or coming home-

 

“Lance Alejandro McClain, do  _ not  _ tune me out when I am talking to you!” Scolds his mother, a scowl on her face. She was nearly 46 yet she seemed to look so much older from all of the stress and strain on her throughout her life. She’d always had something to worry about, it never being herself for all of her life. It was quite sad.

 

“Sorry mamá, I was just thinking.” Lance says, sighing. “What were you saying?”

 

“I was saying how worried you made me! Do you have any idea how awful it is getting a call during work from the school saying your son was found  _ passed out  _ in a  _ bathroom?!” _

 

“No, no.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you-” Lance is cut off by his mother pulling her into her arms. He stiffens slightly before melting into it, nuzzling into her wild, curly, and long chestnut hair. Her scent never failed to have him relax and he always loved her hugs. Any affection from her was a win in his book.

 

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” she sighs and pulls away before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Lord knows what I’d do if something happened to one of my babies. I don’t think I’d survive without you all.”

 

Lance chews on his lip, keeping his head jutted downwards as guilt swells within him. He hated making her worry and to make her think of such things. She deserved a more relaxing life than the one she got with the cards she was dealt.

 

“I have to get back to work, will you be fine?” His mother asks, holding his face in between her hands and observing him.

 

“Of course, mamá. I’ll be a-ok.” He says, trying his best to give her a grin but it doesn’t work very well with the way she was holding onto him. She lets out a breath of relief, a warm smile on her face.

 

“Good, I’ll see you later,” she gives him a final kiss on the forehead before letting go of him so he can exit the car with his belongings. She gives him a final wave before pulling out of the driveway, leaving Lance to stare off at her as she does so.

 

“I wish you didn’t have to go..” He whispers, clutching his school bags strap a little more tightly before looking at the porch and door to his old, small, and crumbling house. With a sigh, he starts to head that way.

 

As soon as the door was open, the foul smell of alcohol reached his nose and he pauses in closing the door to try and get some fresh air.

 

“What did you do this time,” demands a gruff voice somewhere to Lance’s right.

 

“I passed out,” Lance supplies as he gives up on breathing the nice outside air and accepting his fate as he closes the front door. He turns around, getting ready to head up the stairs when his father’s voice stops him.

 

“Wait.”

 

Lance pauses, mid-step and turns to look at the mess he calls his father.

 

The man had gone through several changes throughout the years. One of them being an alcoholic. Lance wasn’t sure when it started, not quite, but he did remember that was when money was really becoming an issue. His father was a bit disgusting, but Lance had learned to cope with this side of him. The side that no one but  _ he  _ sees.

 

“Yes, papá?” He asks, turning to face him once more.

 

“Will you go into the kitchen, underneath the cabinet on the left of the Stove, and bring me back a bottle of Jack Daniels? The big bottle, preferably.”

 

“Of course,” Lance says and sets his school bag on the bottom step of the stairs before heading to the little area they call a kitchen. It wasn’t really one, it was just part of the living room. There wasn’t a wall that separated the two, just a fridge, oven, and a few counters and cabinets that distinguished the two areas apart from one another.

 

Finding the desired area, he digs around to find the bottle he was asked, too. Once the task was accomplished, he heads back towards his father and starts to hand it to him when it is snatched from him. Lance winces slightly and starts to back away, but his father is quicker.

 

“The fuck are those marks on your neck,” hisses his father as he roughly tugs Lance down by his shirt. The stench of alcohol causes Lance to try and recoil, but his father doesn’t let go and instead waits for an answer.

 

“What marks?” Lance, instead, counters with a question.

 

“Don’t play stupid, you slut.” His father growls, glaring up at him and drunkenly pushes Lance away with a decent shove.

 

“If you’re going to do freaky shit and come back to  _ my  _ house and  _ speak  _ to me, at least hide it, you  _ disgrace. _ ” His father spits out, taking a swig out of the bottle Lance had brought him.

 

“Y..Yes, sir..” Lance speaks softly, getting ready to leave.

 

“You can’t even get me the right bottle. Honestly, what do we even keep you around for?!” His father yells, glaring at Lance and the latter feels dread pool in his gut.

 

“You-”

 

One.

 

“-useless-”

 

Two.

 

“-abomination!”

 

_ Smash. _

 

Lance breathes heavily, staring at where the bottle of Jack laid broken with alcohol dripping down the stairs and.. All over his school bag. Later on, he would be grateful for his father's terrible aiming. Otherwise, that would have hit him.

 

“Get out, get  _ out, get out!”  _ His father yells, Lance hearing him getting up and wasting no time in high-tailing it upstairs and grabbing his /disgusting/ bag on the way.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith frowns at his bandaged fists.

 

He hated them being on.

 

“Are you finally going to tell us what happened on Tuesday?” Shiro asks from where he and Allura are sitting down on the couch, opposite from where Keith was sitting in their recliner with a small frown.

 

“Are you finally going to tell me who that man is in all of those pictures you try to hide?” He counters, leaning into the chair and scowling slightly. He wasn’t ready to be bothered about this, he was still coming to terms about it.

 

Allura and Shiro share a look before they sigh.

 

“We can’t ignore it forever.. We might as well tell him.” Shiro sighs and Allura worries her lip in between her teeth, looking conflicted before sighing and just giving her go ahead.

 

“His name is Matt or, his full name, Matthew Holt.”

 

This caught Keith’s attention. For as long as he could remember, he knew nothing of the auburn man that seemed to be in so many pictures and have such an impact on his adoptive parents. He heard them speak to one another, even cry together, over this man.

 

“He was.. Our lover.” Allura says, leaning more into Shiro. It was clear that whatever happened still bothered her- no,  _ them. _ “Until he passed away.”

 

“What happened?” Keith finds himself asking.

 

“He was kidnapped and murdered.” Shiro replies and presses a kiss to Allura’s head. The air around them was heavy, a clear indignation that this was not a topic that was easy to go over.

 

“He was.. A lovely person. We both loved him dearly and he, us.” Allura says with a small smile, “Sometimes it’s hard to believe it has been fourteen, nearly fifteen, years since he was discovered.”

 

“You don’t need to keep talking about it..” Keith says, watching the emotions flashing between the two adults eyes.

 

“No, we needed this. We can’t just keep bottling this up,” Shiro says and looks at Allura with a thoughtful look. “How about we pay a visit to the Holt household?”

 

“It is long overdue,” Allura replies and Keith figures that it was safe to say that he was in the clear of being questioned. For now.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ Knock. _

 

_ Knock. _

 

The sound of a dog could be heard from the otherside of the door, causing Keith to back away a bit. He didn't really like dogs and they didn't seem to like him. It worked out as long as they were far, far,  _ far  _ away from one another.

 

The door slowly opens, but that lasts very shortly before he can hear the slamming of the back of the door against the side of the brick house.

 

“Allura! Shiro! Is it really you?” Shouts a voice.

 

Wait.

 

He knew that voice.

 

Keith squints, taking in Pidge locket raunching herself into Shiro and Allura. He notes a few tears, but he wrote them off as happy ones when he heard the laughter conspiring between the three. He found himself wondering how they hadn't crossed paths before if this was their reaction to one another.

 

“It has been  _ ten years _ ! Why haven't you came and visited? We haven't heard from you since Christmas and that doesn't count because it was a  _ phone call! _ ” Pidge sniffles, Allura and Shiro chuckling nervously while trying to calm her down. They missed her, too.

 

“Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes,” calls a voice from behind Pidge.

 

“How are you, Mrs. Holt?” Allura asks, giving the older woman a smile.

 

“Oh, I'm doing fine. Why don't you all come in? We can chat in there over some cookies.” She says, inviting them all in and watching Pidge drag the two adults inside. She’s about to shut the door when she sees Keith just standing outside.

 

“And who might this young lad be?” Mrs. Holt questions, settling her warm gaze on Keith.

 

“Keith Kogane, ma’am.” He replies, trying to look her in the face but finding himself unable to. He didn't want to be here.

 

“Well, it's nice to meet you. Come on in,” she gestures with her cane. She wasn't as young as she used to be, being in her fifties.

 

“Thank you,” Keith says quietly and slips inside to trail after his guardians. He finds them chatting away with Pidge. He wonders if this is the kind of interactions they wanted when they were trying to adopt.

 

“Cute, aren't they? Katie always has loved them ever since her brother introduced them.”

 

“Matt?”

 

“That would be the one, yes.” She smiles and soon joins them, throwing a “come on” over her shoulder. Keith slowly approaches them, unsure about what to do.

 

“Keith?”

 

“Yeah?” He snaps his head up, meeting Pidge’s gaze.

 

“This is.. A bit shocking,” Pidge says and looks thoughtful. “So you're the one that distracted them for all of those years.”

 

“I guess,” he shrugs and he glances at Shiro and Allura to find them talking away happily with Mrs. Holt and a man, probably her husband.

 

“I suppose this is just another reason to talk with you.” Pidge leans more onto the counter, head resting in her palm. “So, where have you been these last few days? Lance won't shut up about you not answering his messages.”

 

Keith glares at his lap, messing with his bandages. He didn't want to talk about this, not with her or anyone.

 

“It's none of your business,” he states and catches her frown before continuing. “Tell Lance I'm fine and that my phone is broken.”

 

“Alright, fine then.” She says, leaning back into her chair and observing Keith. Pidge wasn't dumb, she knew  _ something _ happened but she wasn't going to pry. It wasn't her place and quite frankly, she couldn't really care. “I was just trying to make conversation, no need to get defensive.”

 

Keith huffs, staring at the countertop.

 

“So, when are you coming back?”

 

“I don't know,” Keith replies.

 

“Okay, fair enough.. Oh! Do you like..”

 

Questions like that filled the silence between the two teens for awhile until eventually Shiro and Allura were ready to go.

 

“It was so nice seeing you all again,” Allura says while she and Shiro did their round of hugs.

 

“Don't be strangers and stop hiding cute children from us!” Mrs. Holt says, dabbing at a tear in the corner of her eye.

 

Shiro and Allura chuckle, sharing a look between them.

 

“Well, take care and call us!” Pidge says, giving them tight hugs. She looks at Keith with a thoughtful expression before offering a grin. “Don't be a stranger at school, you make a nice unfortunate soul to listen to me ramble and ask you several questions. It's been real,” she offers her fist and Keith stares at it, lifting an eyebrow.

 

“What,” he questions when she tries to get him to reciprocate.

 

“Bump your fist against mine!” She shouts, catching the attention of Shiro and Allura who watch closely.

 

“Okay..?” Keith hesitantly brings his hand up, curling it into a fist, and lightly bumping it against the shorter girl’s own. He doesn't quite understand why she looks so pleased but he chooses not to question it for the sake of going home and showering today off.

 

“See ya around.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith sits on his bed, glasses perched upon his nose as he stares down at the guitar pic in the palm of his hand. It was red with a mini black lion outlined on it. He had gotten it when he was thirteen and Shiro had insisted he take up a hobby. Keith supposed he wasn't terrible at playing the guitar (bass), but it wasn't his preferred “art.”

 

Sighing, he sets it on his table beside his bed and looks over the book that laid to the right of it. The one about Hitler. He never did finish reading it, did he? Even if he had, he certainly wouldn't mind doing it again. Reaching to grab it it, he pauses when there is a knock on his door.

 

“It's dinner time,” says Shiro from the other side.

 

“Coming,” Keith sighs and spares a glance at the book before turning off his light and leaving his room. He heads to the bathroom, ignoring the fact that there was no longer a mirror there, and begins to wash his hands before rewrapping his bandages.

 

Honestly, it was a little surreal that he had gotten so  _ angry _ . It had been a bit since he had felt pure anger or helplessness.

 

Making his way to the kitchen, he sits down at their small table. The food is already there and there are plates out, the only thing left is for Shiro to sit down. Once he had, they all begin to fill their plates. Keith notes, distastefully, that it’s pork. It wasn’t his favorite meat.

 

“So, you know Katie?” Allura questions after a minute or two of silence.

 

“Who?” Keith questions, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Mrs. Holt’s daughter.” Shiro supplies and realisation filters into his head.

 

“Oh, you mean Pidge.” Keith pokes at his pork with his fork, glaring at it a tad. “I wouldn’t say know.. More like, we both just know the same person.” But, could he say he knows Lance? It didn’t matter, it felt like he did.

 

“Oh, I see.. Wait, are they the people you were wanting to hang out with tomorrow?” Allura asks, putting two and two together.

 

“Yeah.. But, I can’t really get the information with my phone broken.”

 

“We have her number, we can call her.” Shiro says, taking a bite out of his mashed potatoes. “If you still want to go, that is.”

 

“Oh, yeah.. That’d be great.” Keith says, focusing on his food. Giving up, he pushes his plate further up the table. He just wasn’t hungry, he’d eat later. “So, I was thinking.. I could go back to school tomorrow.”

 

Shiro and Allura set their forks down, eyes making contact as they spoke a silent conversation. Keith was slowly getting tired of that, he wished they’d speak out loud like normal people and not a telepathic supreme couple.

 

“Are you.. Sure?” Shiro questions, hesitantly. They really weren’t sure it was a good idea. Keith still hasn’t spoken to them about what set him off and they didn’t want to risk him hurting himself or someone else if it happened again. Honestly, it was a 50/50 chance in the two adults mind.

 

“Yes, I’m fine. I can go, I don’t want to miss anymore.”  _ I don’t want to miss  _ **him** _ anymore. _

 

“Oh, alright.. But as soon as you’re in pain or don’t feel like it, call us or go to the nurse.” Allura demands, her decision final even though they knew Keith wouldn’t do it. He never did, it was the same thing. They always had to find out through the school and in the last couple of years, it was followed up by him being kicked out. It is not a good or positive routine.

 

“Got it.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Did you hear about your cousin?”

 

“Yes, father.” Lotor sighs, resting against the door in the back of the limo he was in. His eyes stare out, trying to gauge the world through the midnight tinted windows. He didn’t understand why it was necessary to come to school in such away when his father was home. Perhaps it was a way to re-state their power.

 

“Then you know not to follow her example.” Zarkon says, glancing at his son out of the side of his eyes. He knew how messy things could be, had  _ lived  _ messy for quite a few years, and he didn’t want his son to go through that. That’s why he pushed Lotor to be the best he could be at  _ everything _ and to always be on top. It was their family and lifes way.

 

It’s what they  _ lived  _ and  _ breathed _ : dominance and success.

 

“Yes, father. I know, be careful and don’t screw up or it’ll cost me.” Lotor replies, monotone until he spots a familiar mop of inky black hair. “Excuse me, father, but I see someone I need to.. Talk to. May I go?”

 

“Do what you must.”

 

The limo stops and Lotor grabs his bag, opening the door and quickly walking away and towards the person of interest.

 

“Yo, Keith!” He calls out, trying to catch up. The short male was quite the walker, but Lotor had no qualms with that. He could keep up.

 

“Lotor,” Keith greets and doesn’t say anything else.

 

“Where have you been and why haven’t you checked in?” Lotor asks, eyes narrowing and Keith brushes some of his loose strands behind his ear that fell from his short ponytail, jacket rising to show bandages beneath his gloves.

 

“Around.”

 

“What happened to your hands,” Lotor demands and he doesn’t fail to notice the glare that Keith sent his way.

 

“I fucked up, now if you’ll excuse me, your  _ highness _ , I need to get inside the school and in my first period before the bell rings in seven minutes.” Keith grunts, stalking away.

 

Lotor watches him leave, a frown on his face. He wasn’t quite sure he liked the way that he was just spoken to. At all.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“And this is how-”

 

Keith leans into the back of his seat, eyes traveling the classroom. It was dreadful, sitting here for about fifty minutes to listen to a teacher ramble, ramble, and  _ ramble. _

 

His eyes continuously flicker to the clock located above the classrooms door, counting down the minutes until the bell would ring.

 

_ Rrinnggg. _

 

Keith is up and from his seat as soon as it does and out the door just as quick. It was lunch time and that meant he could not only see him, but hopefully talk to him. Keith was aware of every quick glance that was sent his way during Economics and Government. He was  _ very  _ aware of his surroundings.

 

As soon as he steps foot into the cafeteria, there is an arm slung around his shoulder. Irritation bubbles with him and he’s about to shove the person off when he realizes it's one of Lotor’s goons and that meant he was probably being summoned.

 

“The boss wants to see you,” he is offered as explanation as he is steered towards Lotor’s normal sitting area with Ezor perched on his lap.

 

“Glad you made it,” Lotor says with a smile. Keith doesn’t say anything, instead just standing in front of the two teens, waiting to see why he was “needed.”

 

“We missed you,” purrs Ezor as she sinks back into Lotor’s chest. Keith doesn’t look at her, instead focusing on Lotor and taking in that /ugly/ smirk that was plastered on.

 

“We sure did,” purrs Lotor as he rests his head in the junction of Ezor’s neck. “We were wondering where our sweet, little newbie had run off to. So, tell us, where were you.”

 

“I told you before: around.” Keith crosses his arms, getting a little impatient. His eyes dart around where he can see, checking for brown hair and an innocent smile. He didn’t have time for this.

 

“Tut, tut. That doesn’t really answer my question, Keithy boy.” Lotor looks at the male that brought him over, giving him a silent order. Keith quickly finds his wrist being gripped tightly by him, right on top of where the glass had been previously. His violet eyes narrow, settling on Lotor with a dangerous look.

 

“If I told you, will you leave me alone for the rest of lunch?” Keith, instead, tries to bargain. He didn’t really care, other than the slight sting, from where his wrist was being squeezed. It was a minor thing, he has endured worse.

Lotor considers, absently running his fingers along Ezor’s right thigh, lost in thought.

 

“Very well,” he nods.

 

“I was angry and broke a mirror.” He simplifies the entire experience and Lotor waits a few minutes before waving off the guy that was holding onto Keith.

 

“Interesting reason..” Just as Keith is about to leave, he calls for him to wait. “Fantastic job, by the way. The result was  _ sparkling. _ ”

 

“..Thanks.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“So, Keith knows Allura and Shiro. You know, Matt’s past lovers,” Pidge comments off-handedly while taking out her pb&j sandwich.

 

“How so?” Hunk questions, raising an eyebrow. They chose to eat outside today, underneath a tree at a picnic table. They were currently waiting for Lance to come back from the lunch line, like usual.

 

“Well, he was adopted by them.” Pidge explains, “He came with them when they stopped by yesterday.”

 

“Then how come we have never met him before?”

 

“I think he was adopted after.. You know,” Pidge explains. Hunk nods, sighing. They were childhood friends, the three of them, so they were all close to Matt. They had all loved him in a way.

 

“Is that Keith with Lance?” Hunk questions, watching the two said males come up to the table with their lunches in hand, happily chatting away to one another.

 

“Hey, guys. Look who finally decided to stop playing hookie,” Lance says with a playful grin as he sits down beside Hunk and in front of Pidge. Keith rolls his eyes, but sits beside Pidge.

 

“It wasn’t willingly,” he huffs and Lance only throws his head back slightly while laughing.

 

Keith notes that Lance had decided to go with a royal blue hoodie today, which was honestly a little odd because they lived in a beach town and it was still  _ burning  _ outside. Not quite near Fall weather yet. And yet, here he was with sweat trailing down his neck- Wait.

 

“What happened to your neck,” Keith asks, eyes narrowing in on the bruising there. Multiple scenarios run through his head and he didn’t like a single one of them.

 

“Oh, uh..” Lance has a bit of an issue trying to form words. He thought that his hoodie would be able to hide the bruising from when Lotor had been strangling him, though this proved to be wishful thinking. He  _ did  _ have makeup on it earlier, but it washed away during his swim team practice and he hadn’t of had enough time to apply more. “It’s nothing,” Lance finally gets out.

 

Pidge and Hunk share a concerned, knowing look while Keith just stared holes into the bruises.

 

“Who did it,” Keith demands.

 

“No one, Keith. They aren’t important, let’s just move on from it.” Lance sighs, trying to change the subject. He hated being the center of attention with things like this. He loved attention, don’t get him wrong, but he didn’t love  _ this  _ attention.

 

“Lance-”

 

“Keith, drop it.” Lance demands and stares down at his food, hunching in on himself. Keith decides to drop it. For now. He  _ will  _ find out who hurt Keith and lord have mercy on that person's soul because Keith will have  _ none. _

 

There it is. That overwhelming urge to  _ protect.  _ It was an itch beneath his skin and a tight grip in his chest. He didn’t know where it came from, just that it was there. Perhaps being around Lance wasn’t a good idea and he should get out while he can.

 

_ “Nuh-uh, there is no backing out of this. Once you’re in, you’re in. Finish what you started. For mommy, please?” _

 

Keith bites his lip, tuning back into the conversation at the picnic table.

 

“So, where are we meeting up tonight for the study session?” Pidge asks after awhile, long since finished with her lunch.

 

“I was thinking.. My house, maybe?” Hunk offers, looking a little unsure. He knew his grandmother wouldn’t mind, as long as they weren’t too loud and everyone seemed to like his house the times they had went. “Wait, is Keith coming?”

 

“Are you?” Lance asks, looking at Keith with an unsure expression. He knew Keith had agreed to it a couple days ago, but that was  _ a couple days ago. _

 

“If you still want me to.” Keith, instead, replies.

 

“Alright, so he’s going. Hunk’s place, then?” Pidge asks, starting to pack up her bag.

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Lance says, grinning at Hunk and Pidge.

 

“See you cool cats later, then.” Pidge replies, giving finger guns and leaving the other three at the table.

 

“I actually have something I need to do today, in the library-”

 

“Ooh, does this involve a sweet, library aide named Shay?” Lance asks, wiggling his eyebrows with a wide grin in Hunk’s direction. Hunk sputters, blush covering his face and he trying to deny it but Lance saw through it. “You know I only tease you cause I love you.”

 

“I know.” Hunk says, smiling and collecting his things. He gives Lance a hug and a wave towards Keith before re-entering the school.

 

Keith sits there, glaring at where Hunk left off to. Love, huh.

 

He couldn’t help the ugly feeling bubbling up within his chest or thoughts nor the images that flashed through his head. If what Lance said was true, then it was purely platonic- wait, why was he worried in the first place?

 

Sighing, he clears his thoughts.

 

“You know, you had me a little worried when you weren’t answering my texts.” Lance admits, watching some birds in the distance.

 

“Why were you worried? You don’t really know me.” Keith pauses, wandering if that was really the correct thing to say when he notes the slight little furrow of Lance’s brows.

 

“I want to, though.” He admits, sparing Keith a side glance. “It’s not often new people willingly talk to me more than once,  _ especially  _ if they happen to be on Lotor’s good side. You have guts,” Lance chuckles.

 

Lotor.

 

Keith didn’t much care for him. He was only trying to stay on his good side because he didn’t feel like stirring up or dealing with anything currently. Fighting got boring after awhile. Besides, it’s fun letting him think he’s in control.

 

“What’s the story between you two, anyway? You and Lotor, I mean.” Keith questions, watching Lance’s facial expression shift to an expression of slight discomfort.

 

“Let’s just say.. There’s History there and Lotor doesn’t know when enough is enough,” Lance simplifies. He sighs, resting his head against the picnic table, closing his eyes. “It’s not important.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“What’s with you and him? You know, since you asked me..” Lance questions, popping open one blue eye to watch Keith. He takes in the ebony males appearance. He really liked the way his messy eyeliner made his violet eyes pop out and the way his hair framed his face-  _ Breathtaking. _

 

Wait, no.

 

Bad Lance.

 

That’s  _ wrong. _

 

“He found a stray puppy and decided to take it in,” Keith puts air quotation marks around ‘stray puppy’ which causes Lance to chuckle. Though Lotor would realize a little bit later that he was not just a puppy, he was  _ wolf  _ among a litter of small dogs.

 

“So, why haven’t you been answering texts, exactly? You never quite explained that.”

 

“My phone is broken,” Keith replies and Lance accepts that answer, asking another question in return.

 

“When are you getting a new one?”

 

“No idea,” Keith replies truthfully. Though, he had his memory card and everything so it wasn’t that big of a deal but he  _ did  _ have something he still needed to take care of and he needed a phone to do it. “I’ll text you as soon as I have one, though.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, my man,” Lance grins.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Somehow, studying turned into a Mario Kart war. No one could say they didn’t prefer this, but it was really straining their patience with one another.

 

“Shell me  _ one more time,  _ Pidge! I dare you,” growls out Lance as he tries to regain his position in first place. They were playing rainbow road, a personal favorite of the other three teens aside from Keith. The dark haired male had actually never played before today, but he wasn’t much for playing  _ anything  _ in the first place.

 

Still, he was right on Pidge’s tail until eventually..

 

“NO!” Pidge yells, throwing her controller down by her feet. She turns to glare at Keith. “You  _ cheated!”  _ She accuses, narrowing her eyes.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about, I was playing by the rules and used what I was given: a shell.” Keith looks at Lance, observing the amused expression on his and Hunk’s face. “You, of all of us, would know about using them, though miss. Bombshell queen.”

 

“Did.. Did he just make a  _ joke?”  _ Pidge stutters, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that from cold, elusive Keith Kogane. The boy who barely spoke to anyone  _ but  _ Lance, and maybe Lotor counts but he wasn’t really a person in her book.

 

“I think he did.” Hunk muses and Lance shakes his head. “Let’s study for real or our grades are going to suffer.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

Several weeks went by with little incidents. Keith had slowly built up a routine with Lance, Pidge, and Hunk while Shiro and Allura were just happy he was getting out. Eventually, he did get a new phone and Allura invested in a heavy duty case to keep it from breaking as easily.

 

Over all, life was going and that was something.

 

Currently, Keith had Lance over in his room. This happened quite often, it was how they had bonded whenever he hadn’t had his phone yet and they just kept doing it. It turns out Allura and Shiro knew Lance as well, which honestly shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was because they knew  _ everyone. _

 

It was currently the seventh of October, a Saturday, and Lance had thought it would be a  _ wonderful  _ idea for them all to go trick or treating with one another dressed up. So, they were currently going through ideas.

 

“How about.. We dress up as a group of Vampires,” Lance suggests. Keith turns to look at him and then Lance develops a sly grin, “but you wouldn’t  _ have  _ to dress up because you  _ are  _ one.”

 

Keith chucks his pillow at him, mumbling a “Shut up.”

 

“I’m kidding, relax.” Lance laughs, rolling onto his back. Keith only rolls his eyes, about to make a retort when a knock sounds on his door.

 

“It’s almost time for dinner, are you staying Lance?” Allura asks, cracking the door open.

 

Lance waits a minute, glancing down at his phone and shooting up. “I can’t today, I actually need to get going. But, thank you,” Lance responds, slightly in a hurry. He was so caught up in  _ Keith  _ that he wasn’t paying attention to the time. He chooses to ignore the frown on Keith’s face. “Thank you for having me over,” Lance gives a smile and quietly slips out of Keith’s bedroom and house.

 

Keith watches him go from the window in the living room, eyebrows pinched together slightly.

 

“He’s a sweet boy, always has been. Do you like him?” Allura asks, standing behind Keith.

 

Does he? That was such a complicated question, he couldn’t find the correct answer to it.

 

“He’s my.. Friend.” Keith responds, deciding yes. That was what they are. But, a part of him was unsettled.

 

“Takashi is my ‘friend’, too,” Allura teases and heads to the kitchen with Keith following suite, rolling his eyes.

 

Sometimes being alive wasn’t bad.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: unknown number _

_ Subject: (unknown) _

_ To: K. _

_ ______________________________ _

_ I know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm honestly so amazed with the feedback I got, I didn't expect to receive any comments or anything to be honest- but, I loved them! I honestly love hearing all of your thoughts. It fuels me to keep writing.
> 
> This chapters fact(s) have to do with guns:  
> \- "The US makes up less than 5% of the world's population, but holds 31% of global mass shooters."  
> \- The US has nearly seven times the gun homicide rate of Sweden, more than six times that of Canada, and nearly 16 times that of Germany.
> 
> Reminder that if there is something specific you want to know more about or are interested in, you gotta comment it below and I will do my absolute best to research it and come up with all that I can. It can be a psychology, something about school shooters, sociopaths, or just anything like that- maybe even more about the NRA or just gun laws. Let me know!
> 
> Character BG:  
> Shiro:  
> Full name is actually “Takashi Shirogane.” “Shiro” is a nickname from High School during his time on the FootBall team. Him and Allura were pretty much the un-intentional power couple and were the fixation of the entire school. It unnerved him and annoyed Allura as they didn’t really have that much privacy. In High-school, Shiro was quite fond of.. Nothing. He hated everything to do with school. Shiro is japanese. His family moved to America when he was five. It was a little difficult for him to get in the groove of things, but once he had, he was pretty much everyone’s sweetheart. There wasn’t a soul who could look at him and not adore him. Shiro is an author and a fitness coach. Shiro was disheartened by them not being able to have children biologically no matter how they tried, but he wasn’t as opposed to adopting as Allura was. Allura’s thing was “It’s not mine!” but they eventually both got on board. Shiro and Allura used to be involved in a polyamorous relationship with one Matt Holt! Unfortunately though, Matt was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been kidnapped. He showed up a year later, dead in the river. This was four years before they adopted Keith (so, Allura and Shiro were 26 while Matt was 23). The three of them had been in a relationship for three years and hadn’t been involved in another poly relationship since his death. They haven’t met anyone that had made them feel the way Matt made them feel outside of each other and weren’t actively searching either.


	3. A Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chad Grey, a senior at Altea High School, with blond hair and green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not lie, I started this chapter out to spite Lemon-Jizz. I'm actually kind of salty that something so dumb surpassed not one, but TWO of my serious fanfictions- this one included. But, anyway, here is the new chapter!
> 
> No, this is not THE chapter where everything goes down.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Violence, Torture, non-graphic child abuse, implied sexual acts with a child, implied child prostitution, character deaths, blood, fire, gun, shooting, bad mothers, implied pedophilia. If I need to add anything else, let me know!
> 
> As per usual, I created a playlist to listen to while writing and here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfOtrFzAyCw&list=PL7FXvLTOf40hKO8yfzu4UPBXauly8pTlO. Give it a listen- it might clue you in on things or even spawn off ideas on what may happen next!
> 
> Previous Character Backgrounds:  
> Allura:  
> Shiro’s wife. Her family founded “Altea” several years ago. It’s a pretty old school, though it has been remodeled. She, herself, as well as her father had attended it growing up. Her and Shiro are high school sweethearts. She is sterile, unable to conceive, which had pained her and Shiro for many, many years. Adoption was actually their last resort. For a living, she is an attorney and is an active protester. Her current age is 40. She tries to understand Keith, but has a difficulty understanding him the majority of the time. Out of the family, she is probably the one that Keith isn’t that close to. It would seem he much prefers Shiro and had seemed to always do so. No one is sure why, exactly, but a counsellor had mentioned it might have something to do with Keith’s past before he was put into their care. She was 30 when they adopted Keith. In High-school, she enjoyed cheerleading. She tried taking up cooking, but didn’t have the skill for it so Shiro took over. She makes up for it by cleaning when she has the time, though. When she has free time (to herself), she most often spends it watching K-Dramas and soap operas. She was quite fond of theatrics but lacked the talent for it, even though no one really told her otherwise. Her and Shiro challenge each other while working out, both being competitive. 
> 
> Shiro:  
> Full name is actually “Takashi Shirogane.” “Shiro” is a nickname from High School during his time on the FootBall team. Him and Allura were pretty much the un-intentional power couple and were the fixation of the entire school. It unnerved him and annoyed Allura as they didn’t really have that much privacy. In High-school, Shiro was quite fond of.. Nothing. He hated everything to do with school. Shiro is japanese. His family moved to America when he was five. It was a little difficult for him to get in the groove of things, but once he had, he was pretty much everyone’s sweetheart. There wasn’t a soul who could look at him and not adore him. Shiro is an author and a fitness coach. Shiro was disheartened by them not being able to have children biologically no matter how they tried, but he wasn’t as opposed to adopting as Allura was. Allura’s thing was “It’s not mine!” but they eventually both got on board. Shiro and Allura used to be involved in a polyamorous relationship with one Matt Holt! Unfortunately though, Matt was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been kidnapped. He showed up a year later, dead in the river. This was four years before they adopted Keith (so, Allura and Shiro were 26 while Matt was 23). The three of them had been in a relationship for three years and hadn’t been involved in another poly relationship since his death. They haven’t met anyone that had made them feel the way Matt made them feel outside of each other and weren’t actively searching either.

He could feel their fingers, tracing his skin.

 

Lightly across his collarbones, up his neck, and gently curling beneath his jaw to turn his gaze onto them.

 

Logically, he knew they weren’t _there_. However, logic hardly won out against instincts in several occasions. It leads to a restless night, filled with eyes squeezed shut, mouth clamped tightly with teeth uncomfortably grinding, and sweat trailing down a shaking body.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Lance jogs out to his bike, hurriedly getting onto it. He grips the handlebars tightly, quickly kicking off with the pedals and nearly toppling over because one foot didn’t quite make it to the pedal in time to balance properly.

 

_Crreeakkk._

 

_Ding!_

 

Lance chews on his bottom lip, drawing blood but that wasn’t a concern of his at the moment. He hated this stupid bike! It was old, rusty, and about ready to fall apart. He has been begging for the past _three years_ to have another one bought for him since he wasn’t allowed to go out and earn money of his own. Pretty pathetic considering he is a senior, huh?

 

Point is, he was _pretty_ sure that was the reason he fell to the ground with his bike within the next few minutes. The pedals were working one minute and then the next, _nothing._ He aggressively tried to get them to move to no avail. “Oh no,” he mutters as he loses his balance and  starts falling on to his right side. Letting out a small yelp, he lands on his side with the bike on his legs. As he starts to push up, he notices a little too late that he had fallen on top of a hill.. Right on the curve.

 

As he pushes on the bike, he finds that the pedals and other parts are caught in his jeans. He tries to get free but uses a little too much force and ended up sending himself toppling down the hill. The bike continuously gets more and more tangled with his legs, following him with every rock that he hits and adding on to the misery that every dip creates until finally..

 

_Umph._

 

“Ugh..” Lance groans, blinking up at the night sky. His head was _killing_ him and he was almost positive there were several bruises and possibly a more serious injury in some place. If he were being honest.. He was too scared to move. Lance didn’t want to find out. He’d rather lay here, caught up in his bike, and brimming with pain that he imagined would worsen if he moved. He could feel something solid behind his bike, he figured it was probably a tree if his surroundings in its yellow-green, dead grass splendor was anything to go by.

 

Deciding that he really did need to get home, he experimentally moved his fingers and hand around to see if it could find his phone. Finding it wedged between his pocket and a wheel of his bike, he tries to squeeze his fingers in to get it. It takes several tries and at some point he had even given up before trying once more, but he does end up getting it. Tiredly, he moves it to be beside his head and squints at it, trying to pull up his contacts. Finding one, he presses dial and puts it on speaker.

 

 _“Hello?”_ Grunts a deep voice.

 

“Papá? I..” He cuts off, wincing and letting out a groan from a strike of pain. “I need help. I crashed my b..bike and fell d..down hill..”

 

 _“Jesus fuck, Lance!”_ Growls his father, causing Lance to let out a whimper. _“Where are you?”_

 

“By the Bridge next to Arus road.”

 

_“I’m on my way.”_

 

Click.

 

_Beeeepppp._

 

Lance lets out a sigh, letting his head fall back against the ground. When did he even lift it up? Clearing his thoughts, he allows his eyes to succumb to closing from the pain. He could care less who found him at this point.

 

*_*_*_*

 

At least, that was the story he gave his mother and the doctor in the emergency room.

 

“Oh no, my poor baby,” his mother says softly while pressing a kiss to his forehead. She was currently standing next to the hospital bed that Lance had found himself lying on, waiting for the doctor to come back with his x-rays and the diagnosis. Lance makes eye contact with his father who was resting in a chair in the far corner of the room, quickly looking away and offering a small, shaky smile to his mother.

 

“I’m fine, really.”

 

It was sometime past Midnight and for some reason, that was the E.R’s busiest hour.

 

Finally, the door opens and in walks the doctor. He’s a short a man, curly dirty-blond hair that was tyed back into a ponytail in the back of his head. He wore small, circular glasses that fit snug on top of his long but widish nose. He grips the clipboard in his hand tightly, Lance could note that he was trembling just the slightest. The reason was beyond him.

 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Slav. I have your diagnosis and, to put it simply, you lucked out in this reality.” His doctor, Slav, comments as he moves to the rolly chair that was tucked beneath the built-in-the-wall desk. He frowns, setting the clipboard down and pulling the stool out after putting on gloves. Lance and his mom watch him with disbelief as he starts cleaning it and then carefully, checking _many_ times to make sure he sits correctly, sitting down. A few minutes past, Slav switching his leg positions until at last he found it to his liking with his left leg crossed over his right.

 

“Uh, Doctor Slav?” Lance questions, drawing the man’s attention from where it was focused on holding the clipboard just right. “Yes?” The doctor lets out, carefully setting the clipboard on top of his knee.

 

“My results?” He prompts and Slav rolls his eyes before looking down at the clipboard.

 

“Yes, well.. You have one, minor, fracture and a grade 2 sprain. The fracture is in your right leg while the sprain is focused in your left kneecap. Honestly, it could have been a lot worse. As for the other areas of your body, you have bruising and that _will_ take a bit to heal but ultimately nothing else is damaged. You do not have a concussion, but I recommend that you don’t be doing a lot with technology for the next couple of days.”

 

“I.. I _broke my leg?!”_ Lance shrieks, eyes tearing up. He knew he was in a lot of pain, had really appreciated it when they gave him some ibuprofen on the way here to dull it, but he didn’t think it’d be _that_ bad. Apparently his father thought to pay attention at this point.

 

“And what are his restrictions?” He asks, redirecting Slav’s attention to him.

 

“I recommend that he stays home for a few days, so no school. At least until Tuesday, just so he can get accustomed to the wheelchair. We would have given him crutches, but seeing as he damaged _both_ legs, he wouldn’t have much use for those until that sprain is healed up. That should take about three weeks to heal, so we’ll give you a pair of crutches after a follow up x-ray. Which, you will have a few of. It’s to monitor the progress of the bone healing.” Slav pauses, catching his breath. “He won’t be able to participate in any sports, not until about nine weeks from now. I recommend trying to add weight onto the broken leg during the 8th week, trying to wing off of the crutches. As for now, _no walking._ If you have to go _anywhere,_ use the wheelchair.”

 

“But what about swim practice? I can’t just.. Stop,” Lance says. His eyebrows were scrunched up together, distress clear on his face. His mother pets his hair soothingly, leaning into him.

 

“No physical activities.” Slav says, standing up when the door opens and a nurse brings in a wheelchair. In the seat of the wheelchair are two braces and an ace bandage. Lance gulps, not liking this one bit. He cuts a glare in his father's direction, but he makes it quick to not be caught. “Also, don’t forget these. They are very important in the healing process. You have to keep them on in order to insure that it heals right.” Slav moves towards Lance and sets the braces on the bed beside his left foot.

 

“Alright, I’m going to show you how to put them on. Tell me if it’s too tight.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

_Knock. Knock._

 

“What,” groans Keith from beneath his blanket. He doesn’t remove it from his head as the door opens, deciding he’d rather suffocate than see anyone at the moment with how little sleep he got. He was sure he didn’t look all that great and that was sure to cause worry, not that he actually cared but he would generally prefer to be left alone today.

 

“Hey, buddy.” _‘Ugh, it’s_ Shiro, _’_ Keith thinks and tries to burrow himself further into his bed. He didn’t know what time it was but he was sure that it was too early. He hears Shiro chuckle and he rolls his eyes. Silence passes over them for a few minutes and eventually Keith gives, pulling back his blanket to squint at Shiro through his mess of black hair and sight without glasses.

 

“ _What_ ,” he snaps and Shiro only offers a fond look.

 

“You need to get up and about, we’re going to your grandparents house in… thirty minutes.”

 

If looks could kill, Shiro would be beyond burnt to a crisp. “And _why_ wasn’t I told earlier?” Keith asks, using his hand to move his bangs out of the way of his eyes and more towards the back of his head. He really needed to remember to start brushing his hair because slicking it back wasn’t working too hot with all of the tangles snagging. Instead of answering his question, Shiro switches topics and Keith saw the change in his facial expression.

 

“Did you not sleep last night?” Shiro asks, coming a little closer. He doesn’t think, just reaches, and presses his palm against Keith’s forehead and cheeks. He realizes just what he did after Keith flinches back some, but honestly his worry about his health outweighed that a little bit. “Fuck, you’re burning up.” Shiro frowns and lets out a sigh, pulling his hand back.

 

“I _did_ sleep.” For thirty minutes, but Shiro didn’t need to know that. “I feel fine,” he moves to get off the bed but Shiro is giving him a look that has him halting. He knows that look. It’s his ‘I’m your father and you need to listen to me because I know what is best for you’ look. Sighing, he sinks back onto his bed without vocal prompting. Shiro, of course, looks pleased by this.

 

“I’ll go call your mom and then tell Alfor that we can’t come-”

 

“No!” Keith winces slightly at his own volume, realizing that he may feel a little worse than he thought he did but he supposed that’s what happens when you’re caught in the past for hours on end and not even aware of your actual surroundings much less your own body. “I’ll.. I’ll be fine here on my own.”

 

“Keith,” Shiro levels him with a look, “You know that she won’t be happy with that.” Keith knew that very well. He also knew that Shiro wasn’t comfortable with the idea himself but they had to loosen their reigns on him eventually. He supposed their overprotectiveness of him rooted from the fact that they weren’t able to have children and now that they had one, even though an adopted one, they wanted to do whatever they could to ensure his health stays healthy and that nothing happens to him. Which is why he thinks of an idea.

 

“Have someone come over here, like Pidge- I mean, Katie.” Keith suggests, leaning back against the wall and moving his blankets to accommodate him in a more comfortable manner. “You two can still go out and I won’t be alone, plus it will be someone we both know and that I don’t.. Have an issue with.”

 

Shiro remains quiet for several minutes, closing his eyes to think. While he knew that as Keith got older, he’d want to be less coddled and more freedom but that was difficult because Keith never allowed them to coddle him in the first place. It was very difficult for Shiro and Allura to just.. Give up some of the instincts that had planted inside of them, especially since it was one that Keith hadn’t done away with. Until now.

 

“I’ll call your mother and see what she wants to do,” he sighs out at last. Keith doesn’t show any reaction to that other than moving to lay down some more, deciding that maybe he could finally sleep. “But, no promises and Katie has to agree to it, too.”

 

“Right, right..” Keith mumbles out. He squishes his face in to his pillow, causing Shiro to think back to when they first brought Keith home. They were a tad frightened to see how the, then, seven year old slept with his face completely smashed into the pillow with what looked like no room to breathe. That brought on a very upset Keith. He still hadn’t talked to them, but they could tell by his pinched eyebrows that he didn’t quite fancy being woken up because they were afraid that he was suffocating himself. Shiro supposed some things never changed.

 

With a small, soft smile, Shiro leaves the room quietly but leaves the door opened just a tad. It was in case Keith needed something but was too tired or in pain to get up.

 

*_*_*_*

 

 _“I’m not comfortable with this, Takashi.”_ Allura speaks through the phone, voice a little harsh in his ear.

 

“I know, I know. Neither am I, but Allura.. When _will_ we? He’s seventeen and in his senior year. We need to start loosening up and trusting his judgement.” Shiro sighs, leaning into the warm grey couch. He peeks into the hallway, seeing that the light is still off and there was no sound coming from Keith’s room.

 

The opposite line is quiet for several moments until Allura is sighing into the phone herself. _“..Fine. But, it can’t be Katie. She’s, what, 14? I don’t want to put that stress on to her.”_

 

“Okay.. but, who else is there?”

 

 _“Coran?”_ Allura offers and Shiro can just see how well that would work out. “How about.. We get Ulaz to come by and have Katie here for companies sake,” Shiro suggests and Allura lets out a contemplative noise.

 

 _“Ulaz_ is _a doctor and an adult, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, I trust him.. But, what if Katie gets sick?”_

 

“I don’t think what Keith has is contagious, plus he specifically suggested her. Why shouldn’t we grant him at least that much?” Shiro hums out, eyes closing. He could just picture the distressed look on his wifes face and the way she was probably hunched over her desk and coffee, papers stacked neatly on the edge of her desk before she accidentally knocks them over like she always does. _“Alright, fine. I’ll call the Holts, you take care of our son.”_

 

Click.

 

_Beep._

 

Shiro shakes his head fondly. He knows their visit today will be nothing less of stressed and tense. It always was like that with his son involved.

 

*_*_*_*

 

 _Dear Katie,_ _April 2nd, 2004_

 

_I can’t wait to meet you!_

 

“Katie!”

 

Pidge jumps, quickly hiding the old and wrinkled paper in her hoodies pocket. She quickly hops off of her bed, heading to her doorway and moving to the railing that surrounded where the stairs lead down to. She peers over it before shouting, “What!”

 

“You have a phone call,” her mother shouts back and Pidge lifts an eyebrow. Why didn’t they just call _her_ cell phone? Shaking her head, she bounds down the stairs at a decent pace and makes her way to the kitchen. There, she plucks her mother's tiny, flip phone from her brittle hands. Pressing it to her ear, she speaks. “Hello?”

 

 _“Sorry to bother you, Katie, but Keith is sick and I don’t want to leave him home alone. Do you mind swinging by to keep him company along with a friend of Takashi’s and mine?”_ Allura asks and Pidge’s first thought is ‘Why me?’ but then she thinks about it and it makes sense. It obviously wouldn’t be Hunk or Lance, they both had Church right now.

 

“Yeah, sure. What time?”

 

_“Could you be there in the next ten minutes? I’m so sorry it’s short notice!”_

 

“It’s fine, don’t worry, Allura,” Pidge chuckles. “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

 

 _“Thank you so much,”_ Allura sighs out and they give their goodbyes before ending the call.

 

“Can you give me a lift to Shiro’s and Allura’s?” Pidge asks, turning to her mother. She looks confused but nods, “Just give me a minute to locate my keys. I might as well go grocery shopping while I’m out,” her mother starts rambling and Pidge rolls her eyes fondly before heading back up the stairs. She packs a small backpack, stuffing her laptop, an old looking box, and the paper from earlier into it. Placing it onto her back but not zipping it, she jogs down the stairs and raids the pantry for the peanut butter, stuffing it into her bag and zipping it before her mom is aware of what she was doing.

 

“Ready to go?” She asks her mom when the woman comes back into the kitchen, deep mahogany purse strapped to her side.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Lance pretty much stays downstairs when he gets home from the E.R. He couldn’t exactly wheel upstairs and his mother was too tired to help him not to mention he didn’t want to even _think_ about asking his father for help. That was just a no all together.

 

_“Say a word about this and I will piss in your eyes and then pour rubbing alcohol into them.”_

 

Lance shivers, wrapping the blanket around him more. He stares at the wall ahead blankly, trying not to think about the pain he was in. He didn’t want this, but some small part of his mind told him that he had deserved this outcome. He should have been watching the time and left Keith’s house earlier. It was his own fault. This wouldn’t have happened if he would have done what he was told to.

 

Lance sighs, closing his eyes and resting his head on the arm of the couch. He tries to distract his mind from the wheelchair that was parked next to him. It was going to be an unfortunate nine weeks, he could _feel_ it.

 

Wait, nine weeks.

 

Lance pouts, crossing his arms. That meant he couldn’t go trick or treating. At least, not the way he _wants_ to. He could still go, but he’d have to be wheeled around. He _did not_ want that. It would only take away the fun.

 

_Bzzzt._

 

Lance picks up his phone from where it was on his wheelchair. He squints into the bright screen, trying to read what it said. The light was a stark contrast to the dark and bare living room he had been confined to for hours.

 

_From: Hunk-a-licious_

_Subject: Church_

_To: Beyoncè (Lance)_

__________________________

_Hey, where r u?? (_ **_9:20 a.m. )_ **

 

_From: Beyoncè_

_Re-subject: Church_

_To: Hunk-a-licious_

_________________________

_I'm at home :( I had an accid-_

_ent on my bike yesterday, so_

_now I'm stuck with a wheel-_

_chair. (_ **_9:24 a.m. )_ **

 

It's quiet for a few moments, Lance closes his eyes and tries to relax. Despite the circumstances, he was secretly pleased that his absence had been noticed so quickly. It reassured him that he wasn't invisible to those he holds dear, though he really shouldn't have expected any less from Hunk. Or Pidge, for that matter. He figures that's just how it is when you've been friends for years.

 

_From: Hunk-a-licious_

_Re-subject: Church_

_To: Beyoncè_

_____________________________

_Oh no Im soooo sorry! :(_

_Do u want me to swing by_

_l8ter? I'll bring cookies! (_ **_9:30 a.m. )_ **

 

Lance smiles to himself, sending out a simple “You're the best, thanks my man.”

 

Hunk is just this.. Infinite ray of sunshine in everyone's life. He instantly makes it better by just passing you, warming you up and lighting a way in a dark time. It's kind of hard to believe, to those who don't _know_ him, that he's actually really anxious all the time. He constantly jitters and will sweat a lot if his stress and anxiety levels get to a certain height, like during finals. Somehow though, it just makes him more endearing.

 

Letting out a soft sigh, he snuggles into the back of the couch some with his phone in his lap. He feels relaxed and a little more lighter. With the help of his friends, he knew he could pull through.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_Knock, knock._

 

“Oh, hey. Come on in,” Shiro greets Pidge. He steps out of the way, holding the door open for the small girl and politely closing it afterwards. He can't help but raise an eyebrow at the backpack she was sporting around. “What's the bag for?”

 

“It's just to keep me occupied, something to do.” She chirps, taking it off and setting it down on the couch, plopping down next to it not even a minute after. “Where's Keith-y boy?”

 

“His room, he's sleeping. I don't think he rested a lot last night.”

 

Pidge nods, tugging her bag closer into her side. “And your friend?”

 

“He'll be here shortly- Oh, I think that's him now.” Shiro walks back over to the door, opening it and giving a warm smile that has Pidge looking away because of it’s ‘brightness.’ “Welcome, I’m so sorry this is on such short notice.”

 

“It’s fine,” chuckles, what Pidge assumes to be, Ulaz. She hears the door shut and she briefly looks over into that direction to see a.. _Giant._ “Holy shit,” she breathes out. This man was huge, easily at least seven feet tall. She wasn’t too keen to stand up to see where her own stature looked compared to his. She can tell that they probably heard her comment because both men chuckle.

 

“Allura will be here shortly, I’m sure she’ll come in to say hello and to check on Keith before we take off. But, please, make yourselves comfortable.” Shiro says, sitting down on a recliner. He casts a look towards Keith’s room, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s stubborn as all hell,” Pidge comments as she takes out her phone. She pulls up her game folder, hearing but not further commenting on Shiro’s reluctant agreement, and clicks on Angry Birds. Humming to herself, she pulls her legs up to sit criss-cross and focuses on her game. She _will_ get the perfect score on all of them.

 

The door frantically opens, the knob hitting the wall behind it and knocking over the coat wrack.

 

“Where is he?!” Allura says, loudly, in her concerned tone that only mothers seemed to be able to achieve. Pidge, startled, drops her phone into her lap and accidentally sends her last bird flying _nowhere near_ the last pig. Damn it.

 

“In his room, asleep.” Shiro responds, watching Allura tense and then relax only to repeat being tense and having to relax. “Check on him _quietly._ ” Allura nods her head quickly, rolling her eyes fondly.

 

She quietly opens the door to his room a little more than it already was,peeking inside. She observes his sleeping position fondly, it no longer causing her to panic. Not today, anyways. It just meant he’d be in a deep sleep, something she knew he didn’t get very often. Allura slowly backs away from the door, closing it back to how it was previously, as if she hadn’t been there at all. Turning back towards Shiro, she quietly accepts his hug and breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

“Ready to go, my love?” Shiro asks softly into her hair. He received a nod and he smiles, turning to face Ulaz and Pidge. “We’ll be back soon enough.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Are you _sure_ that is what happened,” Hunk questioned. He eyes Lance’s injuries with a concerned, critical eye. He truly did care for his friend and he knew him very well. He knew that Lance is accident-prone and hella clumsy at the best of times, but _this_ had to of been the worst he had received since he was twelve and “fell down the stairs.”

 

“ _Yes,_ Hunk. I’m sure,” Lance says tiredly. This conversation had been going on for the past ten minutes. He just wanted it to be over with, it was tiring having to constantly put up this front. On the bright side though, it was just him and Hunk at the house. His mother stayed after at Church to prepare for the night service and his father was out doing god knows what. Lance had to be honest, _he didn’t want to know._

 

“Alright, alright..” Hunk gives in, reclining into the old chair that his father likes to sit in. His drinking chair. He _really_ wished that wasn’t Hunk’s favorite chair. That chair held so many _memories._

 

_“Don’t move and keep quiet,” his father grunts._

 

 _“I said_ **be quiet!”**

 

“Lance, _Lance?_ Are you here with me, buddy?” Hunk asks, finally off of that godforsaken chair, while waving his hand in front of his face. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here, was just thinkin,” Lance laughs though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. Not that it matters, Hunk didn’t really pick up on it. He hadn’t for the past nine years. “How about those cookies now, Hunk?”

 

“OH!” Hunk’s eyes light up from excitement as he turns to the side to dig through his satchel that he carries everywhere outside of school.  He brings out a bag of cookies, carefully handing them to Lance. “Here you go!” Hunk smiles.

 

“Thank you, you’re the best!” Lance cheers, opening it up and digging right in.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Groaning, Keith hesitantly opens up his eyes. He is greeted by his dark room and the silence of the house. Did they really leave him? Sitting up, probably just a tad to quickly, he lets his head stop spinning and gets off of his bed. The blanket pools down, dipping onto the floor but Keith didn’t really care. He grabs his phone, placing it into his pyjama pocket and steps out of his room.

 

“So you _are_ alive,” Pidge comments from where she was perched on the sofa. She had her petite hand wrist-deep in a peanut butter jar with peanut butter smeared across her lips. Keith finds the decency to not look slightly disturbed, after all: he does eat lunch with her whenever Lotor doesn’t have him chained to his ankle.

 

“Unfortunately,” Keith deadpans and plops onto the sofa beside her. He leans his head back onto the back of it, closing his eyes slightly. “What time is it?”

 

“Five p.m.” Calls Ulaz, emerging from the kitchen. It was now that he could smell the food cooking. Being asleep all day caused a bit of a hunger to settle in him which, apparently, warranted the growl that erupted from his stomach. Ulaz only chuckles, “It’ll be ready in five minutes. I hope you like spaghetti because it’s the only thing the little one and I could agree on.”

 

“Spaghetti is fine-”

 

“HEY! I have a name!” Pidge shouts, causing Keith to flinch from beside her, offended by her nickname. If there was one thing she hated more than not being in the “know,” it would be being referred to by her height and stature. “Oh, sorry Keith.”

 

“It’s fine..” He mutters, finally bringing his phone into his hand and turning it on. He didn’t have any notifications which is odd because Lance has _always_  either said something to him or in their group chat. Questioningly, he turns to Pidge for answers. “Have you heard from Lance?”

 

She takes a minute, a minute too long in Keith’s opinion, to think before answering. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

 

“He hasn’t said anything all day.”

 

“Oh, so he’s finally being quiet for once- hey, don’t give me that look. I mean it with fondness and the love of a childhood friend. He’s probably with Hunk, don’t worry.” Pidge says, quickly trying to defuse the flames she _knew_ was heading her way. “Whatever,” Keith answers and stands up. He accidentally knocks over Pidge’s bag in the process, causing the box she packed to start to fall out of it.

 

“Hey, what’s that?” He asks, bending down and picking it up. It was odd to be the one to be snooping for once, but it was Pidge and he was kind of upset at her.

 

“Oh, that would be a box addressed to me. Which reminds me, I have a letter to read-”

 

“Spaghetti is finished,” Ulaz calls from the kitchen.

 

“It’s about time,” grunts Pidge as she stands up and abandons the peanut butter jar on the couch still open. She is a mess, Keith concludes. He allows her to take the box from him, but is slightly confused as to why she was going to the kitchen with it. It was _nasty._

 

“Wash your hands and I’ve already served the appropriate proportions for people your ages.” Ulaz says, drying off his own hands and sitting down at the table. Pidge and Keith both do as told, sitting down at the table. While Keith doesn’t waste time digging in, Pidge instead digs through her pocket for her letter. Opening it up, she begins to read where she left off.

 

 _Your mother isn’t as excited as I am, but that’s okay. I’ll love you no matter what. That’s a promise! I just hope you don’t hate me after reading this. You see, I can’t take care of you.. Not in the way I_ should _be able to, so I had to make a really hard decision. I decided it would be best to let you be adopted, BUT, before you get angry.. It was_ my _parents, or ours now, that did it. So, you are going to grow up with me as your brother! I don’t expect it to be easy, but your happiness and health is what matters. Just remember, no matter who I am to you.. I will_ always _be with you._

 

 

  * __With lots of love and excitement, Matt.__



 

 

“WHAT,” shouts Pidge. She stares down at the letter, shock and anger filling her face. “What’s wrong?” Keith asks, giving her a questioning look.

 

“My brother was apparently my father,” she mutters and all Keith had to say in response was a quiet, “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ God.. _When_ was I going to be told?” She scrunches her eyebrows, head tilted downwards. “Did he have a reason?” Keith asks. It takes a minute for her to process what he asked, but eventually she did reply. “It was that he wouldn’t be able to take care of me properly.. Which, growing up with him.. I can see how that would be a problem. He really got the short end of the stick until he started dating your parents.”

 

Faces that didn’t belong to Allura and Shiro flash through his head but quickly morph into Shiro’s and Allura’s. He wills that thought away, now is not the time.

 

By now, Ulaz was already in the living room again probably cleaning up after Pidge and her peanut butter.

 

“How do you feel?” Keith asks after a moment.

 

“Hurt. Almost like.. I’ve been living a lie,” she answers honestly. Keith nods before pointing his fork at her plate. “I think they’re going to be back soon, it’s almost her dad’s bed time.You can talk it over with them, I’m sure they’d.. Understand more?”

 

“Right, right..” Pidge trails off, twirling her noodles. She slowly eats and they bathe in the silence.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“The box is gone!”

 

“What, where did it go?”

 

“I think she found it..”

 

“I guess it was time. We couldn’t hide it forever, it’s not what they would have wanted.”

 

“You’re right. I’m just worried, you know how she can be.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Thank you for coming over. I’m sorry you missed Church, I know it’s the only time you get to see Shay outside of school and that you actively enjoy it..” Lance apologizes, head bowed slightly.

 

“Hey, hey.. It’s fine, I love spending time with you and binge watching all of the disney movies on Netflix and Hulu. It’s something I will always look back on fondly, even if we do it a lot.” Hunk reassures him, giving him a heartwarming smile that could melt anyone's heart. Well, almost anyone.

 

“Oh, Hunk.. I didn’t realize we were expecting company.” Comments Lance’s father, coming inside from the front door.

 

“Hello, Mr. Mcclain! I was actually just leaving, I have to go home to help my Grandma, but it was nice seeing you. Bye, Lance!” Hunk gives Lance a one-armed hug before quickly leaving. It’s quiet for a few minutes afterwards, Lance’s father standing by the door and looking at everything _but_ Lance. Eventually, he walks right past him and into the kitchen.

 

“She’ll be home late, it’s just me and you.” His father says, coming back into the living room and sitting in the chair across from Lance. He sips his liquor, staring him down. Eventually, he scrunches up his nose. “You stink. I think it’s time for a bath,” he comments and sets his bottle inside the loop of his belt. “Come on, make it easier on me and you won’t receive anymore punishment other than what you already have coming for having someone over without permission.”

 

So, Lance works to the best of his ability while being heaved unceremoniously into his wheelchair. He is sat in uncomfortably but doesn’t have the time to adjust himself before he is being wheeled into the bathroom down the hall. His father helps him undress and by the time that was over, he felt like he really _did_ need a bath.

 

The bathtub in their house also had a shower in it and it was decently sized. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough funds to spare to fill it up all the way with hot water. So, a bucket it was.

 

He sits there, crouched uncomfortably inside the bathtub. His legs were hurting, tears pricking at his eyes but he knew better than to cry. So, he bites on to his lip and remains quiet as the cold water falls from the showerhead. He reaches for the soap himself but his hand is smacked away from it.

 

“No, let me.”

 

“Yes, sir.” He replies, quiet and subdued. He let his thoughts drift off as he feels his father’s fingers dig into his scalp and hair, scrubbing the soap deep into his scalp and hair. Eventually, his head tilts downwards and he stares into the bucket wedged in between his thighs. He stares into his reflection, mind drawing to a blank to all things but how uncomfortable he was.

 

Lance is in pain and stuck with his father hovering over him, _cleaning_ him.

 

“We’re going to let that sit for awhile,” mutters his father. Lance nods, but is slightly confused as to why his father's hand was cupping the back part of his head near the base of his neck. “While we do that, I think it’s time to wash your face.”

 

It took him a moment, but realisation dawned on him as soon as he felt the water surrounding his face and that the bottom of the bucket was a lot _closer_ than it was previously.

 

*_*_*_*

 

The front door opens and Pidge hurriedly shoves the rest of her spaghetti into her face. There were only two people it could be walking through that door and no cold spaghetti was going to keep her from attaching herself to them for answers. She is stubborn and _very_ determined.

 

Keith watches her, squinting slightly at the pace that she ate at. He was finding it a little hard to believe nothing had gotten stuck in her throat. Noodles can be tricky, he would know. He had a pretty close call with spaghetti whenever Shiro and Allura first got him to eat. He hadn’t really ate anything and his hunger was renewed with a vengeance to acquire what his body had been denied.

 

“Oh, welcome back,” Keith hears Ulaz greet them. He tunes out the rest of the conversation, finding it boring. It was just a bunch of “how was it? Any problems?” kind of thing that he could care less about.

 

“Hungry, Katie?” Chuckles Shiro, coming into the kitchen and immediately heading to the pot on the stove. Keith notes that they must not have eaten this time around. That’s usually the reason that they return past dinner. Alfor could be quite persuasive when he wants to be. However, he is proved wrong when Shiro just brings out a large bowl coupled with a lid to place the spaghetti in. It didn’t matter either way, Keith knew Shiro would be in here at Midnight for it.

 

“Uh, yeah..” Pidge says unintelligently before clearing her throat. “I actually have something I wanted to talk to you and Allura about, if the both of you didn’t mind?”

 

Shiro places the bowl into the fridge and heads to the sink, washing his hands. Drying them off with a hand towel, he takes a seat at the table. “Sure, I’m down. Allura! Katie has something to share,” Shiro calls out to his wife. Allura quickly enters the kitchen after seeing Ulaz off and thanking him. “What is it?” She asks, sitting down beside Shiro. Keith decided to ignore the looks they kept sending him. He is _fine._

 

“I’m going to leave now, I’ll be in my room.” Keith says, standing up and excusing himself from the table. Allura watches him go, a pinched expression on her face. Shiro shakes his head, lightly patting her hand. “Just let him,” he says and she sighs before turning her attention to Pidge.

 

“Well.. Did Matt tell you to keep anything a secret from me?” She settled on asking, anxiously toying with the letter. At their confused faces, she decides that question was useless and her thought was proved correct whenever they both shut it down with a, “No. He never told us to do anything of the sort. Why?”

 

“Here,” she passes the letter to them. “Read this and you’ll understand.” They both look down at it and Allura gently unfolds it, holding it to where her and Shiro can both read it. Once finished they looked baffled and a little shocked before a knowing look passed onto their face.

 

“This must be why he always insisted on you being apart of our end game once we finally started a family. He always insisted on including you in our future plans.” Shiro says, wrapping an arm around Allura as both adults settle on looking at Pidge. “It all makes sense now,” Allura says quietly.

 

“So.. He _did_ plan on telling me?” Pidge whispers to herself, a bit of relief swelling up inside her chest. This knowledge wouldn’t change much though. After all, she _did_ grow up with him as a brother and since he wasn’t here there really wasn’t anything _to_ change.

 

“I would believe so,” Allura says and offers Pidge a gentle look. Though it was clear this was news to the two lovers as well, she knew that they’d be with her through thick and thin; just like they always have.

 

Everything would be fine.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Everything was _not_ fine.

 

Lance hadn’t texted him _all_ day. That wasn’t something Lance would do, he always texts Keith. Always. It bugs Keith that today he didn’t. It’s like something trying to break through his skin: itching, _crawling._ He grips his phone tightly, glaring down at it. What added on to his frustration even more is that he didn’t know _why_ it bugged him so much. That ugly, dark feeling swirling in his chest and mind was restless.

 

_Find, find._

 

_Protect, protect._

 

**Keep.**

 

Growling, he pulls his blanket over his head and lets his phone knock on to the floor.

 

“Keith?” Calls Pidge, knocking on the door. Keith would really rather be alone right now. Or, with Lance. His mind was really tugging on the latter, _‘You can be alone with Lance.’_ “Yeah?” Keith calls out, slightly muffled by his blanket but Pidge, somehow, hears him all the same and comes inside.

 

“I’m heading out now, text me if you hear from Lance, okay? I can tell that it’s worrying you.” Pidge says, standing in the doorway. She has her backpack perched high on her back, almost resting on her tiny shoulders, and she looked ready to leave, from what Keith could see from his tiny peep-hole in the blanket. She probably wanted to talk to her parents or.. Grandparents, he guessed.

 

“Okay,” he grunts from beneath the blanket and Pidge shakes her head before softly shutting the door behind her. He hears the goodbyes that were going on in the living room. They are heartfelt, full of love that has been there for years. Much longer than Keith has been with the Shirogane’s. He finds himself wandering throughout his thoughts about different scenarios.

 

Like, for example, what if Matt _didn’t_ die? Would Shiro, Allura, Matt and Pidge all be living as some sort of “big, happy family?” And that brought on to where _he_ would be. Surely, not with his mother as she was dead. Very, very dead. _‘Good riddance,’_ whispers a dark voice within his head that Coran had dubbed his “trauma.” Back at the topic at hand: maybe he would still be in the home? Or, maybe.. He would have died with his mom.

 

*_*_*_*

 

 _“Stand up kid, I’m not going to touch you.” A gruff voice says, pulling the arm of a scrawny seven year old. Of course, the kid as trained as he was, still didn’t speak. He had come to known from experience it is best to_ always _be quiet. The man sighs, letting go of his arm. “Can you point me to where your mother- I mean,_ employer _, is?” He asks and he nods, starting to walk deeper into the hell-hole he had called home for all seven years of his life._

 

_The two stop at a ratty, brown door. The walls were so thin, every moan and groan from the room it lead to could be heard. The little boy, used to this even when he was restricted to the bathroom didn’t even bat an eyelash, but the man beside him had cringed. It made the boy a little confused. That was the first time he had seen such a reaction in this house when things like this was involved._

 

 _“Alright, stand back, kid.” The man says, resting his palm against the handle of the knob. He was surprised it was still there along with the door. There used to be many screaming matches that involved slamming of the doors and slamming of_ bodies _into the door. The little boy watches the man with slight curiosity. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. As far as he knew, he was scheduled here for_ him _and not his mom. Unless, she pawned another client off on to him in favor of someone who fit_ her _tastes. When the door opens, the noises inside don’t stop. It’s like they don’t notice, not even as the man starts walking inside._

 

 _The boy, ever so obedient, follows after him but stops in the doorway when he is given a look he knows_ very _well, “Stay” it said. Of course, he did. He has learned that whatever that is going to happen is done and over with a lot faster if he does so._

 

 _The boy decides to focus his attention on the man rather than his mother on her bed being obliterated and moaning like a wanton whore. He was used to it, has_ experienced _it but that wasn’t pleasurable. Neither was being forced to listen to and watch it. He used to vomit, maybe even cry- but those memories seemed so distant now. He refocuses when his mother glares in his direction, but doesn’t stop letting the man above her continue drill into her. She gives him a look and he knows it means trouble, but she is quickly refocusing on the man that came in with him._

 

_“What do you want, sugar?” She asks, voice scratchy and raw from overuse and smoking. Her crimson lipstick was smeared all over her face similarly to the bright red makeup that Clowns seemed to sport around. Her dark blue eyes focus on the man, fingernails digging deep into the other that hadn’t seemed to notice. Though, with the heavy smell of drugs and alcohol in the air, it was a wonder he was still pounding into her the way he is._

 

_“I have some business with you.” The man that walked with the boy replies simply, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards but his eyes, stone cold and emotionless as they were, never strayed from his mother. “Well, maybe not me.. But, it’ll all end the same way.” The boy watches closely as the trench coat the man wore lifts up slightly in the back where he notices there is small pockets sewn in. One pocket was bulging, something silver peeking from it. His breath catches, whether in fear or wonder, when the man opens the pocket and brings out a gun however out of his mother's field of vision thanks to the chair and her boy toy._

 

_She laughs, the sound strained when she keens as the man inside her hits a spot that ricochets throughout her body. “And what might that be, darling?”_

 

 _“A conclusion,” he states and lifts the gun up slowly. His mother hadn’t yet taken notice to the danger lurking in the dark, but_ he _has. Something pulses within his veins, a darkness swirling and sloshing within his blood and bleeding into his mind. ‘Do it, do it, do it._ **Do it now** _.’ His thoughts spin and he spends no time wondering why he doesn’t say something. Doesn’t think why he doesn’t scream when his mother obviously closes her eyes, probably thinking she’s hallucinating the entire thing as she often did after a dosage. When they open, she can’t scramble fast enough away from the body on top of her before there is a bullet flying and entering in her right temple. She lets out a sob of pain and the body above her stops, curiously looking around._

 

_“Where am I?” The male asks and the other shakes his head, muttering something about ‘no witnesses’ before sending another bullet into his flesh, straight into the heart. Something akin to glee spreads through the little boys chest. An emotion he wasn’t sure he had felt before. It hurt, but it only grew as the shooter fixes his gaze back on his mother and levels the gun to aim towards her open chest, her breasts on full display and her body a rag doll from all of the abuse of drugs in her system and the ability to not think clearly coupled with her oozing head wound. She whimpers and her eyes momentarily turn to the little boy, eyes wide._

 

 _“Please.. Help,” she whispers to him and he stares at her. He watches_ everything _as another bullet flies through the room and burrows into her chest. He watches her gasp, clutching at her chest. It didn’t quite graze her heart, but it was clear that there was no way she was going to be making it out of this one. She was laying there, limp and it reminded the little boy of how that mirrored himself just a few days prior. Small body bruised and battered on the floor, questionable liquids splattered across his body with lipstick stains and nail marks. There was quite a few times he’d think, ‘This is it.. This is where I finally go,’ but it was never that simple for him. He_ always _got back up._

 

_The thing that shattered this reflection was that his mother wasn’t getting back up._

 

_Ever._

 

*_*_*_*

 

His phone makes a buzzing sound and Keith quickly unravels himself from his blanket, picking it up. Squinting down at his phone, trying to make out what he was reading but ultimately giving up and reaching for his glasses. Being able to see now, he stares unamusedly at his phone. This anonymous number was getting on his nerves. Sighing, he decides to ignore it. He was pretty sure he knew who it was. There was only two people who _always_ seemed there whenever he went to meet with this person.

 

Lotor wasn’t slick and if he knew something, Keith fucking dares him to do something about it.

 

There was always the possibility he was wrong, but he never dwelled on those. He always preferred to be right. Anything less and he was annoyed. Flopping back onto his bed, he stares at his phone blankly.

 

It was getting late and still.. No Lance.

 

Deciding to click on his gallery, he scrolls through it. There were numerous selfies on here taken by Lance and a few with a disgruntled Keith in it and even some with Pidge and Hunk in them as well. Those were a rarity and Keith didn’t really want to keep them but it had Lance in it and Lance was constantly taking his phone, once asking why he deleted one of their pictures. Of course, disappointing Lance in anyway was like pouring fresh cement down his throat and allowing it to settle.

 

He comes across the picture of the blond who knocked into Lance in the beginning of the year. Feeling bored, he decided it was time he did something.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Lotor stares down at his phone, confusion coupled with amusement settled across his face. He was in his room, lounging on his sofa by his fireplace. Beside him, Acxa was sat on the floor on top of her legs, ankles crossed. She had various blemishes across her skin, left over bruising from her punishment after Zarkon stepped in to save her from being in _big_ trouble.

 

“Why, would you look at that, dearest cousin,” muses Lotor as he points his phone down towards her for her to read. She is barely able to decipher what it says before it’s being swiped away from her view. She does her best not to bare her teeth. “He wants information!” He cackles, leaning into the chair as if the very idea had tickled him to the very core while trying to catch his breath.

 

“What shall I do? There’s so many things _to_ do! Acxa, what do you think? Of course, I’ll supply the information- but what’s the fun in just that? I’m so awfully bored this weekend and I don’t have my delightful doll to drag around.” Lotor sighs out. He wasn’t really expecting an answer from Acxa, he never did. It was very rare she _did_ speak in his presence, much less _alone._

 

“Okay, I’ll give it to him but not without finding out some things for myself. After all, I’m not quite happy with the pup of the group. He doesn’t know when something isn’t to be _shared._ ”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Keith? Are you feeling better?” Shiro asks, coming into his room quietly followed by Allura after they knocked. They seemed relieved to see Keith sitting up on his bed, guitar perched on his lap as well as his glasses as his fingers lazily splay across the strings.

 

They didn’t know why he chose to not to just stick with the pick, but if Keith were honest about his answer they probably wouldn’t be happy. He loved the feeling of the strings against his fingers and he would admit, those few times when he was younger that his strings had mysteriously ended up broken and wrapped around his fingers because he was “trying to fix it” may have not been as innocent as he played it off.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’d the visit with Papa go?” He asks, looking up from his fingers to look at them. He had to play his cards right if he was going to get to do what he wanted to do tonight.

 

“It went fine. You know him,” Allura chuckles. “He gets so caught up in trying to feed us and then trying to ‘catch up’ that he tires himself out.” Shiro nods along, chuckling. “So, how was it with Katie and Ulaz? You know, besides the letter drama,” Shiro asks and Keith shrugs.

 

“It was fine, I slept most of the day.” He answers truthfully and the two share a look before believing him. “Okay, well it’s getting late and you have school tomorrow. Please try to get some decent sleep tonight so that we don’t have a repeat,” Allura says softly and Shiro nods in agreement. They leave with soft goodnights and Keith can’t help the small little lilt tugging at his lips at what he knew was in store. He was _definitely_ sleeping good after this.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Chad Grey, a senior at Altea High School, with blond hair and green eyes.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what he did wrong, he had followed the guidelines- even the ones Lotor had set so _why_ was he here?

 

Here, to put it simply, was nailed to a wall in a children’s old, abandoned clubhouse deep in the woods near Daibazaal Hills park. Despite his “tough guy” act at school, he was quite the cry-baby. What most didn’t know was often after football practice he’d find himself curled around his mother drying his tears because of a scrape. Anything and everything hurt more than it needed to, so surprise, surprise when he found out that having nails _drilled_ into his skin was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

 

“Why are you doing this?” He chokes out, sobs wracking his body. His face was stained with tears, continually flowing down the tracks the original ones left. His captor, face covered by a red bandana and goggles, looks over to him from where he was hunched over a tiny, wooden table.

 

“Because you messed with something that belongs to me,” he replies, his voice monotone and grave. Straightening up as much as he could, he re-adjusts his gloves and picks up a small knife. At first, Chad thinks little of it but as it grows near his face pales and he can’t _breathe_. Strangely enough, his air is brought back to him in the form of a scream when he feels the first cut carved into the space between his neck and his collarbone. As this continues a few more times, sometimes chunks of skin being removed permanently, Chad focuses in and out throughout his tears.

 

It isn’t long until he knows it’s time.

 

“You don’t mess with a flame and expect not to get burnt,” replies the voice smoothly as the bandana is pulled down and two matches are placed between his captors teeth. The cutting has, thankfully, stopped but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was next. He could feel it, a fire within about to be released. As the matches are lit, he couldn’t help but let one pray slip from his mind even as the fire licks at his lips and is entered into his mouth. It stings, just a tad but it’s quick and for a minute he relaxes.

 

But he didn’t account for where that lighter, in it’s long and slightly gun-like shape, had gone. Chad quickly learned that, that fiery kiss he had just gotten was a kiss of death and nothing more as he feels the fire lick at his skin and the gasoline that was slowly being washed all over him in fleeting touches caresses his skin and the clubhouse.

*_*_*_*

 

Keith stumbles into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush aggressively and hurrying to brush at his teeth. He scrubs so viciously and so much, repeating the cycle, that his gums were bleeding and his mouth was numb but that _taste_ was still in his mouth. He couldn’t get it out and he was driving himself in sane. It was the sound of his phone going off that had him grounded, just a bit.

 

_From: Lance_

_Subject: uhh_

_To: Keef!!_

__________________________

_Heyy!! Sorry that I didn’t tex-_

_t you. I was with Hunk and de_

_-aling with something but it’s_

_fine now, I just won’t be at sc-_

_ool for awhile. (_ **2:30 a.m.** _)_

 

Keith stares down at his phone.

 

Lance didn’t come to him with a problem.

 

He went to _Hunk-_ Okay, stop. This isn’t you. Keith takes in a deep breath, trying to reign in his mind. He sizzling at the seams and was ready to blow. He needed to see Lance and he needed to do so _now._

 

But, he knew that he couldn’t. So, he went for the next best thing: _“Can I call you?”_ he texts and waits patiently. He isn’t anxious about it. Somewhere along the way, they had started doing this and falling asleep on the phone talking. This would have been the second night they hadn’t done so in a _week._

 

Instead of a reply, he gets Lance’s icon popping up on his phone and two options: _accept_ or _decline._

 

Keith wasted no time in picking.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“When were you going to tell me?” Pidge asks, her arms crossed as she stares at the people she has called her parents all of her life. She wanted _answers_ and they weren’t going to weasel by like how they always have since she was younger.

 

Her “mother” looks over at her “father” beside her, biting her rosy pink lip in concentration. It frustrates Pidge further when the silence carries on, invading their souls. “Well?” She asks, tapping her foot impatiently. Pidge was not a patient person, they should know. Right when she’s about to snap again, her father speaks up.

 

“After High-school,” he replies and there is guilt there. Pidge has the inkling suspicion that that wasn’t true at all but she decides she’s too tired for this. She may have wanted answers, but the truth boring down on her had already tired her out quite a bit.

 

“Did.. Did he plan on staying my brother forever?” She asks quietly, voice small and her arms circle around her waist as the silence hangs heavy. This time, she doesn’t push them for a response. Instead, she looks up at them between her bangs and sees their saddened expression.

 

“We.. We don’t know,” her mother replies and Pidge sniffles. She ducks out of the way of her hug, darting up the stairs and to her room. She slams the door and she hears the muffled shout of her name. She slides against her door, knees held to her chest and the letter fit snugly between.

 

How could she trust what Allura and Shiro had said about plans when her “parents” didn’t even know what his plans were?

 

*_*_*_*

 

Lance was drained.

 

He just wanted to curl up into a ball and _hide_ for all of eternity. That shower, bath, or whatever you wanted to call it was painful and he spent a good hour or so crying his eyes out afterwards because his father just _left_ him there in the bathtub after he passed out from lack of oxygen.

 

The repeated mantra, “Why me? Why me?” followed by “Who better than me?” was filtered throughout his head all the way until his mother came home and found him, even afterwards. She cooed to him softly, trying to get him to stop hyperventilating. Of course, he couldn’t tell her what happened. That would be _bad._ It’d make his “bike accident” really look like an accident.

 

Sighing, he stares down at his phone. It was two in the morning and Lance was aware he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d just get so many flashbacks. Of course, he had many flashbacks but the most recent one brought forth a type of panic that filtered throughout his chest and filled his lungs, taking his oxygen. He couldn’t afford his mother having a heart attack because he passed out _again._

 

“Maybe everyone _is_ right,” he sighs. He scrolls through his phone, trying to find _something_ to do when a name catches his eye and he unwillingly finds himself smiling as he reads it and begins composing a message. It was long overdue anyway.

 

Once they had began talking, Lance just couldn’t _stop._ Talking to Keith was addicting in a way. He loved doing it because he _knew_ he had Keith’s full attention. Sometimes, the looks he had received from Keith in private and at school sent shivers down his spine. He could never quite place what it was and whether it could be marked _predatory_ or not, but he always waved it off in favor of having _Keith._

 

His name repeats inside his mind over and over again, taking up any and all space it could find. He’s lost in his thoughts and brought back when he hears Keith from the phone, _“Lance? Are you awake?”_

 

Chuckling tiredly, Lance lets out a confirmation.

 

 _“Good,”_ Keith says and for some reason, Lance couldn’t help the odd tingling that came from that sentence. Like it was masked to be something else, a _claim._ But, that was ridiculous. They were both dudes and dudes don’t dig each other in anyway but bro’s, right? Right?

 

Lance sighs, shaking his head.

 

“Hey, Keith? I think I’m going to hang up now. My parents should be waking up within the next hour and you should really get some sleep for school.”

 

 _“..Shouldn’t you get some, too?”_ Keith replies and Lance looks at his wheelchair in disdain.

 

“Unfortunately, I won’t be attending school for a bit. I.. I had a bike acc..accident,” Lance says. For some reason, he felt odd lying to Keith. It was a heavy feeling, almost like that forlorn feeling of ineveitable death. Shivering, he waits for Keith to respond but it takes several moments and when he does, his voice is not one he recognizes.

 

_“Are you hurt?”_

 

“Yeah, bu..but I’ll be fine. Just a broken leg and sprained knee, no biggey!” Lance chuckles, trying to play it off but is met with silence instead of corresponding laughs. “Keith?”

 

_“You should be more careful, Lance.”_

 

“I.. I will, promise.. Goodnight, Keith.” Lance says quietly, an odd feeling swelling his chest.

 

_“Goodnight, Lance.”_

 

*_*_*_*

 

_From: Unknown_

_Subject: I know_

_To: K._

_______________________

_He makes for an excellent_

_late night talker, doesn’t h_

_e? I would know. I gave y-_

_ou a very clear order and_

_you disobeyed. What com-_

_es next is purely your fault._

_(_ **5:50 a.m.** _)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and the coMMENTS. I love comments. They fuel my existence, not going to lie. They really encourage me to continue writing. Thank you all so much for actually taking time out of your lives to read this, it means a lot and I said it in the comments but I thought I'd say it here as well: writing this HAS helped me cope some with the nightmares. Unfortunately, they still come but it also gives me a little more edge for my writing.
> 
> Moving on, the topic for today's fact section is: Kohlberg's Theory of Moral Development. (This doesn't really have anything to do with gun laws or the NRA nor school shootings, but it's something my English teacher had told me was a good place to start for researching different mindsets that people could potentially have and a good way to help construct the characters, more importantly THE character. I really enjoyed researching it.  
> \- There are (3) three levels, but with multiple stages. I'll try and be brief(?):
> 
> Level One: Pre-Conventional Morality  
> *Stage One - Obedience and Punishment: This is usually seen during infancy. There is no distinct "right" and "wrong."  
> *Stage Two - Self Interest: This is usually founded in pre-school where they start seeing the reward in "pleasing others" for their own benefit. An example would be: Little Nancy picking up the Crayons when asked because she knows that if she does so she will get rewarded with something out of the treasure box beneath the teachers desk.
> 
> Level Two: Conventional Morality  
> *Stage One - Conformity and interpersonal accord: Usually seen in grade school, the "good girl/boy" level. Effort will begin to be made to secure approval and maintain friendly relations with others. (IF you have questions about this, just ask in the comments- I'll answer to the best of my ability!)  
> *Stage Two - Authority, Social, and Order - Seen in the academic range, this shifts to fixed rules. The purpose of morality is to maintain the social order. Interpersonal is to include society as a whole.
> 
> Level Three: Post-Conventional Morality  
> *Stage One - Social Contract: Seen in the teenage years, around when your appearance and how you present yourself matters. Mutual benefits, reciprocity. Morally right and lawfully right are not always the same thing. Utilitarian rules that make life easier and better for everyone.  
> *Stage Two - Universal Principles: Seen in adulthood. Morality is based on principles that transcend mutual benefit.
> 
> \- This theory was actually not the first, but I believe it is the one most recognized. The original was "Pieget's Theory." They are both actually really similar, if you guys express an interest in this then I can share my notes on that theory sometime in the future!
> 
> Character BG:  
> "Pidge" Katie Holt:  
> She is actually Matt’s daughter but Matt wasn’t ready and prepared to raise her, so she was adopted by her grandparents (Matt’s parents). She grew up thinking he was her brother, even now she knows no different. She was 7 when Matt died. She is actually rather close to Allura and Shiro, though none of them know the truth. She was supposed to learn about it after High-school, same with Matt’s lovers. She’s really smart, she skipped two grades to join her friends in the fourth grade. Her hobbies include binge watching anime with Lance, gaming, and hacking (though no one but her childhood friends know about this and even so, they only know because they found out on accident). Pidge also picked up knitting to put her hands to use when she didn’t have any kind of electronics on her (or when she was grounded, basically) so it is not unusual to see her whip out her knitting project. She is currently 14 (turns 15 on the 3rd of April).
> 
> Reminders:  
> If you have a specific topic that interests you and you would like to see some research on, then comment below! I'll do my best to research it and answer questions anyone may have. If you have questions about the story, please feel free to comment as well! Also, I have a question: does anyone listen to the playlist? Not related to the playlist, but does any song come to mind while reading?
> 
> Until next time, lovelies!


	4. Potomania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was always watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this out before Halloween, but nothing ever really goes to plan. I've had a lot happen in my life since the last time I updated this, but not to worry: it's not going anywhere.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Semi-graphic violence, Death, Alcohol, Panic Attack.  
> If you want to avoid reading the violence stop at "You're a piece of shit" and pick up at "A match is lit."

_ “There was a reported fire last night out by Daibazaal Hills in the park. It would appear as though no one else was there.. Except a teenager whose body was later identified to be Chad Grey, a local high-schooler.” _

 

That was all everybody and anyone was talking about. You could not turn your head in the school without hearing the whispered name of  _ “Chad Grey.” _

 

Most of the time, his name was followed by sympathy but rarer, it was followed by those who said he caused the fire and couldn't get out in time. It was a hot debate and teachers had to step in quite a bit.

 

Keith though.. He could care less. He felt calm, collected, and tame. He didn't have that sudden flare of unrest and irritation when he caught a glance of Chad in the halls.

 

One thing -or,  _ someone _ \- that did have him a little antsy though was currently not anywhere to be seen or heard.

 

Shaking his thoughts, he glances down at his phone and scowls slightly at the one message he had. That was  _ not  _ who he wanted to deal with. Shoving his phone roughly into his front pocket, he walks briskly through the halls and towards his first period.

 

“Hey.”

 

…

 

“Hello?”

 

…

 

“Hey, I am talking to you, shit head!” Shouts an irritated voice, carrying out well despite the busy hallway. Keith pauses in his walking, turning around to see who was talking to him. His eyes settle on Pidge and a slight bubble of irritation swells up inside. For whatever reason, he was still upset with her over what she said about Lance and him being quiet.

 

“What,” he asks with a cold, detached tone. Pidge doesn’t seem bothered by it though, seemingly used to it as if it were normal. “Did you hear anything from Lance?” She asks and Keith realizes that he never told her whether or not he received anything from him. He finds he doesn’t particularly want to.

 

As he was about to answer, the one minute bell rings throughout the hallway. Pidge looks put out, kind of frantic. It was at that time that Keith truly considers her appearance. While she wasn’t always the neatest person, she looked like an absolute  _ wreck  _ today. Her discovery yesterday probably put her emotions on a relatively high-scale which kept her from sleeping. She didn’t usually sleep anyway, but her normal bags underneath her eyes (that can sometimes be hidden by her coke-bottle glasses) were three times as prominent and contrasted starkly to her milky white skin.

 

‘Hm..  _ Milk. _ That sounds really good-’ Keith thinks but is brought back to the present when he sees Pidge roughly running her hand through her unruly locks of hair.

 

“Okay, it’s whatever. I’ll, uh, catch you later and you can tell, okay?” Pidge says, hopefully.

 

Despite the ringing  _ We’ll see,  _ going through his head, he wordlessly nods and turns his back to her though he doesn’t feel unsettled about it because he knew the short girl was going to be sprinting to her first period as soon as he answered. True to her chaotic fashion, Keith could hear her rushed footsteps fading away from his hearing range and the startled shouts of, “watch it!”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“No, papá,” answers Lance softly. He was bunched up on the same couch, trying to appear smaller than he was as the man that called himself his father stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. The usual pungent smell of alcohol and filth wasn’t radiating from him for once and Lance figured it had to do with the fancy-ish attire he was sporting.

 

It was no secret that they didn’t have a lot of money. They had just enough to get by (when his father wasn’t spending it all on the booze he swore to his wife he didn’t buy).

 

“Okay.” His father responds, running his hand through his usually gritty hair. “I don't know when I'll be back and don't call or text me. I'll be busy. Your mother will be gone for a bit because your abuela is sick, just letting you know.” He pauses, taking in the carefully schooled expression of his son.

 

“It's just you and me.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

Knowledge was a strange, powerful thing.

 

Having the advantage of knowing something that another does not sends a thrill in ones veins. A high, that's what it is. Endorphins from having just a tad more control in the given situation than the other.

 

It was exhilarating and Keith reveled in it.

 

“So?” Pidge asks, plopping down into her seat across from Keith in the library. It was currently lunch and Keith wasn't feeling like dealing with a whole lot of people much less a lot of noise, so he headed to the library and Pidge followed.

 

“So what?”

 

Pidge gives him a flat look and Keith only responds with a blank stare. She had to tell him what she wanted  and  _ beg  _ for it.

 

“About Lance?” She prompts, trying to get Keith going. She is met with silence and a slight tilt of the ravens head. Pidge was starting to get frustrated. Every time she saw him, it was just a repeat of the same thing. Right as she was about to yell, Hunk sits down beside her.

 

“Hey, guys!” He says cheerily, radiating off his positive vibes as usual. Keith says nothing and Pidge looks annoyed, crossing her arms. If Lance would be here, he’d make the comment that she was like a bird who got their feathers ruffled in a bunch. Of course, that would just make her even more upset.

 

_ Ding! _

 

Pidge and Hunk pause in their talking, looking over at Keith questioningly. The guy never got any notifications, at least not when they were around, so it caught them off guard.

 

“Excuse me,” Keith says quietly as he stands up and slings his bag on to his shoulder lazily before walking away, phone in hand.

 

“That was.. Weird,” Hunk says quietly as he watches Keith walk off. Pidge nods, letting out a sigh. “Yeah, but he’s just a weird guy.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: Lance _

_ Subject: School _

_ To: Keef!! _

_ ___________________ _

_ Hey :)  _ **(12:30 p.m.)**

 

Keith stares down at his phone, squinting slightly. What was he supposed to respond with? When he hears voices coming his way, near where he was leaning against a pillar in the hall, he quickly types out a ‘Hey.’ It’s good timing too, quickly after he finds an arm slung around his shoulders and dragging him into the others body.

 

His nose scrunches up slightly in distaste, but it isn’t super noticeable.

 

“Keith, my man, it has been awhile.” Lotor croons, hold on Keith relentless. The raven has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the annoyance causing his skin to become hot and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be touched by anyone. Well, almost anyone.

 

“Lotor,” he responds bluntly and the blond laughs as if he just told the funniest joke he had ever heard.

 

“I just wanted to check on you. Who were you texting before I got here?” He asks, an underlying meaning in his tone that Keith just didn’t care to pick up on. “No one, I was checking my notifications.” Keith responds coolly, the lie rolling right off of his tongue.

 

Lotor watches him, eyes calculating, before letting go. “I see..” He murmurs, moving to stand in front of Keith. “Did you hear about Chad Grey?” Lotor asks, changing the topic with a knowing glint in his eyes.

 

“How could I not? Everyone is talking about it,” Keith responds and shifts the weight on his feet to one from the other. His face showed nothing but boredom, even as he looked Lotor right in the eyes. He would much rather be anywhere but here.

 

“Fairpoint,” Lotor hums out before mischief forms into the curling of his thin lips. “What do  _ you  _ think happened?” Keith takes his time in answering Lotor. He lets the blond’s mind run wild, though he seemed to have a certain answer in mind, and watches in silence.

 

“I think he got what he deserved.”

 

The bell rings, sounding more akin to sirens than anything in Lotor’s head, and he watches as Keith blends into the crowd of teens.

 

*_*_*_*

Lance was alone.

 

He was alone in his house and  _ bored _ .

 

His father had left about an hour ago. Lance still wasn’t sure where he went, but he could care less as long as he was gone and not around him. Scanning his phone, he hums to himself. He had sent a message to Keith, but he wasn’t sure what to do from there. He wanted to talk to him, but he didn’t know about what. His usually creative mind was drawing on blanks.

 

His phone lights up, showing a message, and his heart starts fluttering in hope.. Only to be replaced with mild disappointment.

 

_ From: Hunk-a-licious _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Beyonce` _

_ ____________________ _

_ Hey man, u doin alright? _

**(12:40 p.m.)**

 

Lance smiles fondly, quickly texting back his response:  _ “Yes, why?” _

 

_ From: Hunk-a-licious _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Beyonce` _

_ ___________________ _

_ Have u seen the news? _

_ Chad died and I want- _

_ ed to make sure u we- _

_ re doin fine  _ **(12:43 p.m.)**

 

Lance pauses, thumb held above his phone.

 

Chad?

 

As in  _ Chad Grey _ ?

 

Memories flood into his mind, slamming into him like a brick against a wall.

 

_ From: Hunk-a-licious _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Beyonce` _

_ ____________________ _

_ I think 1 of the reasons _

_ he seemed 2 have it out _

_ 4 u was because he lik- _

_ ed you  _ **(12:49 p.m.)**

 

**…**

 

_ Lance?  _ **(12:53 p.m.)**

 

**…**

_ Buddy?  _ **(12:56 p.m.)**

 

Lance vaguely recalls the rumors that Chad was gay. He remembers how the male had once gotten bullied for it, even though he never confirmed it. But, how could he? How could he when he knew it was  _ wrong  _ and looked down upon? Chad couldn’t and that was exactly why Lance refused to believe it.

 

‘Besides.. You don’t hurt the people you love.’ He thinks, typing out his response to Hunk before the brunet had a panic attack.

 

_ From: Beyonce` _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Hunk-a-licious _

_ ___________________ _

_ No, he didn’t, Hunk. Th- _

_ at’s wrong. Boys don’t _

_ like other boys. Not li- _

_ ke that, never like that. _

**(12:58 p.m.)**

 

And Lance conveniently ignores the nagging bit in his brain showing pictures of violet eyes, pale skin, and ink-black hair. He also ignores Lotor, like he usually does, because that was a special case. He knew he was just confused.

 

*_*_*_*

Pidge sighs, pushing her hangs out of her face so she can see clearer. Her eyes scan the pages, taking in every face and every name-  _ searching _ .

 

“What are you even looking for?” Hunk asks, watching her with confusion. Why was she going through yearbooks?

 

“I’m trying to find my bro- I mean,  _ dad _ and mom.” She explains, her mess-up going over Hunk’s head. Even so, the darker boy leans in closer and looks at the year printed out on the cover of the book clutched in her tiny hands.

 

“..Isn’t that a little too recent of a yearbook?”

 

“No,” she says sharply and Hunk raises his eyebrows. Pidge rarely gets snippy with him so he knew not to tread too much on that topic.

 

It’s quiet for a moment until Pidge shouts, “Found them,” excitedly. “Come see, come see,” Pidge says and shoves the book into Hunk’s view.

 

On the page of interest, a young couple is featured. One, a girl who is sporting a decently sized baby bump and platinum blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head, was the main focus of the picture. She wore a fitting dress, colored in pink, and a ribbon pinned titled  _ Vote for Prom Queen. _ Directly behind her an average sized male was, a goofy expression peeking out from behind his coke-bottle glasses and messy hair that was colored almost exactly like Pidge’s, looking absolutely smitten by the beautiful girl.

 

“Isn’t this Matt? You know.. Your  _ brother _ ?” Hunk asks, confused.

 

“Actually, he’s my biological father and  _ that _ ,” she points at the baby bump displayed, “Is  _ me. _ ” The date on the picture said it was taken in February, so two months before Pidge was born. It was weird to see pictures of someone carrying her before she actually existed. It was strange.

 

“Oh,” Hunk says quietly and leans back into his chair. “How did you find out?”

 

“A letter addressed to me from him.” Pidge answers, searching for the name of the woman that was her mother. Finding it, her eyes light up.

 

Chelsea Grey.   
  


*_*_*_*

 

_ “Wear blue on Tuesday in honor of Chad Grey. Everyone who participates will be included in a group picture with his family.” _

 

Keith listens to the intercom vaguely. The majority of his attention was divided between that, Lance, and Lotor who was staring at him from across the room.

 

_ “Reminder: prep-rally schedule tomorrow.” _

 

As announcements end, Keith stands up and walks past Lotor without giving him any sign of acknowledgment. Instead, he eyes the woman behind the desk. Technically, if he remembers correctly, she was also the librarian. He remembers he shushing them (Lance, Hunk, and Pidge) from behind her thick-framed glasses that didn’t really make her sight any better. Her ink-black hair was cut in a messy pixie and she had sharp features which reminded him of the blue eyed monster to his side.

 

“I have the form for dismissal from the prep-rally.”

 

Narti snatches the yellow slip of paper from Keith’s fingers, hand trembling while she does so and lightly brushing against his own. A sense of uncomfortableness flares inside the male but he keeps it from showing up on the outside. He didn’t want Lotor getting a reading on him, he was already persistent enough.

 

“We can’t take these anymore,” she says and gets ready to crumple the piece of paper.

 

A bit of anger swells inside his chest. He was only late turning it in by 10 minutes - and that’s because of announcements! Before he could react to it or retort anything back, Lotor is standing up and resting a hand, firmly, on his shoulder.

 

“Dear Auntie, why not let it slide by this one time? I’m sure he has good reason to not want to go especially since all of his friends are going.” By friends, Lotor meant his squadron. The little wannabe gang he had following around him everywhere. If they saw a real gun or act of violence, they’d probably run away squealing like pigs.

 

“Oh.. Alright. Now get outta here,” she gives in and Keith clenches and unclenches his fist. He could tell she didn’t really want to do this and that just added onto the annoyance he felt from being touched by her and him.

 

“Thank you!” Chirps Lotor as he steers Keith out of the office. “You alright there,  _ Keef _ ?”

 

“It’s Keith.” He corrects, bluntly. The name arising slight suspicion as he’d only been called that by one other person.

 

“Is it?” Lotor removes his hand from Keith, putting his finger on his chin feigning thought. “I could have sworn it was Keef. I must have read it somewhere and got the pronunciation mixed up with yours,” Lotor says with a faux innocent grin. There was a hidden meaning there.

 

“Right…” Keith says, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I have to go now.”

 

“Take care! We wouldn’t want you to break a leg or something,” Lotor says and pats Keith’s back before leaving himself.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ Slam! _

 

Lance jerks awake. His eyes are wide open and he’s alert, looking around the living room until he sees his father looking disgruntled and  _ angry _ . In his hand was a box and fear gripped his heart tightly as pain flares up in his legs.

 

“Papá?”

 

He gets no response as the infuriated man stalks across the living room with fear and danger increasing in Lance’s mind-

 

‘Not safe, not safe,  _ not safe-’  _ Lance’s thoughts are cut off when he goes into the kitchen and not towards the couch Lance was currently on. Relief washes over him.

 

*_*_*_*

Keith crouches beside his bike, fingers brushing over the front tire. It was rough and there were holes in it. All from a late night adventure that ended in a speedy get-a-way. He'd need to get a new tire, but luckily they had a spare already.

 

The door to the garage opens and Keith stands up, straightening out his shirt and turning his head, violet meets warm grey.

 

“You doing okay, bud?” Shiro asks, observing Keith carefully. Since school started, something changed and he didn't know what. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, couldn't determine whether the difference was good or not.

 

“Yeah, I just need to touch up my bike. It needs a new tire,” Keith answers in his usual monotone. He turns his attention back to the bike.

 

_ Rouge _ . That is what it's previous owner branded it as, putting the name deep into the carving of the steel and metal that made it. This was his first motorcycle, his first commitment to freedom. It was kind of cliche, but it was true.

 

With Rouge, he could go anywhere he wanted on the red beauty.

 

“Yeah, she does look kind of banged up. We'll work on her sometime soon.”

 

“Sounds good,” Keith says and eyes the slight discoloration in the rear end of the bike. It was singed slightly, painted flames. It brought back thoughts, burning and numbing thoughts.

 

Thoughts that made him feel alive in a way he had previously not been.

 

*_*_*_*

“Katie? Katie, where are you going,” asks Mrs. Holt. Her voice was raised in pitch, hands raised as she frantically follows her 'daughter’ out of the door.

 

Pidge doesn't answer, instead she adjusts her backpack-packed to the brim- on her back. Opening the door, she is out very quickly before she is caught. Glancing over her shoulder before sprinting down the sidewalk and down to Daibazaal Hills with her 'mother’ shouting out after her.

 

*_*_*_*

“Hello?”

 

…

 

“What?!” A best of silence and a worried sigh. “Alright, calm down. Takashi and I will look out for her. We'll bring her home.”

 

Allura hangs up, dropping her phone on to the table. She rubs her temples with manicured nails, her age showing on her face. From the stove, Shiro pauses his cooking and lifts an eyebrow in question. Sensing the silent question, Allura looks up and meets his eyes before speaking.

 

“Katie ran away from home with a backpack.”

 

Shock filters in grey eyes. “Why on Earth would she do that?” Shiro finds himself asking and Allura only shakes her head. Both adults are in thought before their recent conversation with the young girl filtered into their minds.

 

Realization hits.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: Pidge _

_ Subject: [adventure] _

_ To: Emo Bench _

_ ___________________ _

_ Hey, do you wanna go _

_ on an adventure?  _

**(6:59 p.m.)**

 

Keith squints down at his phone and is getting ready to ignore the message altogether when his door is opened after three subtle knocks.

 

“Hey, bud. Your mom and I have to go out but, we’ll be back as soon as possible. If you get hungry, dinner is in the Fridge, okay?” Shiro says, coming into the room. He looked a bit frazzled, causing Keith to quirk an eyebrow in question.

 

“Why are you guys leaving? You never leave.” Keith chooses to say instead, setting his phone down. He didn’t particularly care, but he was kind of curious. It was true, what he said. They never get out except to work and to go to Allura’s family. Most of the time, Keith is forced to go with.

 

Shiro runs a hand through his hair, eyeing Keith tiredly. “Katie left home and Mrs. Holt was unable to stop her. They’re out looking for her and so Allura and I are going to help..” He trails off, Keith nodding along suddenly slightly interested in the message her received from said blonde.

 

“I better get going,” Shiro says and as he starts to leave Keith’s room, he watches him carefully. “If you hear anything, anything at all.  _ Please  _ let us know.”

 

“Okay.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Thank god, I was getting tired of walking.”

 

Keith slowly comes to a stop next to a huddled figure on the sidewalk, making sure to treat Rouge with care. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here or not?”

 

“Well, Keith-y boy, I made a discovery and I needed someone's help that I knew wouldn’t go blabbing off.” Pidge cuts him a sharp look, challenging him. The unspoken ‘you better not’ is unsaid, but so is Keith’s own response.

 

‘We’ll see.’

*_*_*_*

Several minutes later, Keith finds himself in a vaguely familiar neighborhood. He couldn’t remember if he’d actually been here before or not, but he decided he didn’t really care for the specifics. It obviously wasn’t important enough if he couldn’t remember.

 

“Alright, so.. It should be..” Pidge trails off, squinting at a piece of paper in the dark that was  barely seen with the help of a flickering streetlight. “Right.. Here!”

 

Pidge excitedly shuffles her backpack on her back, starting to trod on over to a light green house. The paint was chipping off of its panels and the lawn had definitely seen better days, but neither teens paid any mind. That is, for Keith, until they saw what hung on the door.

 

_ “Welcome to the Grey Household” _

 

*_*_*_*

All actions have consequences.

 

This is a fact. An undeniable one that even in the face of death could not be proved wrong. It was a butterfly effect, one after another. Perhaps Newton’s third law could even play in. But, did he care? Not particularly.

 

Which is why, as he eyes the house with vague distaste at the sudden familiarity of it, he still stays when Pidge knocks on the door. He absently rubs at his skin where his red sleeves and gloves didn’t quite cover, listening to the barking of a dog from the other side of the door. It’s comforting and grounding.

 

“Can I help you?” Grumbles an older man, eye bags and grief plain on his pale and washed out face. He had wrinkles accenting his face along with thick cotton brows and hazel eyes that seemed devoid of feeling anything.

 

“Ah, yes! I’m looking for a.. Chelsea Grey?” Pidge trails off, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Keith couldn’t quite figure out why and instead looks away disinterested. He had other things on his mind, anyway.

 

The older man takes a moment, observing the two kids before he settles on something when he sees the giant bag on Pidge’s back.

 

“Are you with the media or are you just a bunch of nosey brats? Let us grieve in peace, god damn it!” He shouts, getting ready to slam the door but is stopped by Pidge hurriedly reaching out. Her eyes are frantic, pleading.

 

“ _ Please _ , let me speak with her! I come in peace, I’m not here for that..” She trails off, looking a bit unsure. “Besides, I know that some things are left unspoken about.” The news about Matt’s death penetrates her thoughts before she shakes them off. She understood and that was all that needed to be said.

 

“...She’s out right now. I’ll let her know you stopped by, you are..?”

 

“Katie. Katie Holt,” she answers and misses the brief look of panic in his eyes. “Right, well just leave your number and she’ll either call you or ignore you like she does with all of her responsibilities.”

 

“Thank you,” Pidge responds kindly.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“You can’t stay here.”

 

“But, Shiro-”

 

“No buts,” sighs out Shiro as he rubs his temples. “Your parents-” “Grandparents,” Pidge interrupts bitterly- “are worried sick about you. You need to get home,” he finishes before sitting down next to her. He gently places a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Look, I know this isn’t easy. I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but I know it must be hard. But, remember that they  _ love _ you and always will, no matter who you are biologically to them: you are still their daughter.”

 

Pidge tears up, looking away stubbornly. She, of course, knew this. Deep, deep down, she did but right now wasn’t the time for her to acknowledge that.

 

“Okay..”

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: Keef!!! _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Lance _

_ __________________ _

_ What are you doing _

_ right now?  _ **(9:05 p.m.)**

 

Lance jumps, startled at the sound of his phone going off. Warily, he looks around with his eyes to see if his father was anywhere to be around. Satisfied that the man wasn’t making an appearance anytime soon, Lance opens up his phone and smiles at the contact popping up.

 

_ From: Lance _

_ Subject: [none] _

_ To: Keef!!! _

_ ___________________ _

_ About to catch some z’s. _

 

Lance’s thumb hesitates over his phone, thinking to himself. Should he risk continuing this conversation or should he just shut it down here and now as to not worry about causing a ruckus later on? Taking in a deep breath, his thumb moves across his screen in a move to seal his fate.

 

It isn’t much longer than after he sent it that his phone is lighting up with a new notification. Though, disappointingly, it is not who he expected it to be. Actually, he didn’t even  _ know _ who it could be.

 

_ From: unknown _

_ Subject: [My favorite: you] _

_ To: Baby Blue _

_ ____________________________ _

_ You look good propped up in one _

_ space all day.  _ **(9:10 p.m.)**

 

Lance blinks, heart pounding as he warily looks around. He eyes his phone, confused and lost. Who was this? Another message comes through, Lance prays it’s Keith.

 

_ “You’re cute, thinking you could spot me and escape from my eyes. You have been in my sights for years, Lance.” _

 

Lance turns off his phone, not even giving a response. He looks everywhere, spying the small windows in the living room. Paranoia was eating him up. He just wanted to sleep and get it over with.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Rough, cold fingers brush over his skin. The smell of booze wafts through the air and even in his sleep his nose crinkles. Another hand combs through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp before pulling at it a little and yanking out brunet strands. An unimpressed grunt fills the room just as something else fills up one of his old t-shirts.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Time flew by, problems got glossed over, and eventually it was finally October.

 

Keith knew what was going to occur this month. The joyous yells of Shiro and Allura ring through his head and he clenches his eyes shut. It was currently Sunday, the first of October and in just 23 days he’d be celebrating another year of nothingness.

 

He never much understood the big hype about getting older. That’s just showing how long you have endured your miserable existence. He wasn’t about that and it proved in the way he’d stay out for hours. Actually, he was on his way out right now. He hadn’t told Shiro or Allura yet, but he was getting a job.

 

The urge to do something itched at his skin and made him feel restless, a feeling he was more than accustomed to and despised more than anything. He needed to be out doing something and unfortunately his first choice on what to  _ do  _ isn’t an option.

 

Grabbing his keys, he was out of the door.

 

*_*_*_*

“You wanted to speak with me?” Asks a cold, feminine voice. A voice that sounds so distant, but almost familiar.

 

“Yes. Hi, I, um. I’m-”

 

“I know who you are,” she is cut off. “Katie Holt, born to one Matthew Holt and one Chelsea Grey.” Cold blue eyes observe the girl, Pidge, in front of her. “What do you want from me?” She asks, dainty hand coming to rest upon the small curve of her stomach absentmindedly.

 

About to answer, Pidge is distracted.

 

“Are you.. Pregnant?” She asks, eyes widened just the slightest behind her glasses.

 

“Yes,” Chelsea answers and spares a glance at her stomach. “I’m also married and have a two year old back home.” Back home? Where was that? Was it not here?

 

“So.. I have siblings?”

 

“No, you have nothing.” Chelsea snaps, “You will never be considered mine.”

 

“Oh..” Pidge says, looking down.

 

“What did you expect out of this visit? That I’d weep with joy and sweep you into a hug? No, I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I have never had that maternal connection with you. You were never mine and that won’t ever change.” Chelsea stands up, Pidge watching her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a funeral to plan for my younger brother.”

 

And she left.

 

Just like after she was born.

 

She tried not to cry.

 

*_*_*_*

 

“I’m here to turn in an application.”

 

“Okay, give me just a moment.”

 

Keith nods, standing there awkwardly. People eyed him warily, staring at his combat boots, messy hair, and general dark appearance. He radiated darkness and gloominess. Still, the woman from behind the counter came back.

 

“Alright, I’m not sure if we’re still hiring but, I will give that application to Jakob. Call back in two days, okay?” She offered a bright smile, though it was obviously fake. His eyes see right through it. “Okay,” he answers and she grins a little more as she takes his application.

 

As he leaves, he can’t help but think one thought: is it really Chicken Express or is it Chicken Depress?

 

*_*_*_*

 

It was odd, feeling even more unsafe in your own home. Usually, he was fine when his father wasn’t home. But now? He wanted to jump out of his own skin constantly. The messages hadn’t stopped. They piled up sometimes. A few times, there were even pictures and descriptive detail on what would be happening to him right then and there if the sender had his way.

 

His.

 

He was pretty sure it was a guy if some of those pictures were any indication.

 

However, thankfully he was finally able to leave the house. Lance had finally gotten rid of his wheelchair and was allowed to use crutches. Unfortunately, although a tad smaller, he still had the stupid brace and a pair of crutches for more support. Which was dumb considering he had to work more for balance.

 

“Are you ready to go?” Asked his mom, raising an unplucked eyebrow. He will never understand how she was gifted with perfect eyebrows. He had to sacrifice his soul and skin to the gods and then make a second offer to Shrek for his to look the way they are. Even then, they are mediocre.

 

“Yeah.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

“I haven’t been here in  _ forever _ .” Lance groans out, stretching across Keith’s bed. His hair had grown some in the last month. Keith wanted to run his fingers through them to see if the strands were as soft as they looked. But, he didn’t.

 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you injure yourself so horribly.”

 

Lance is silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Expecting for the brunet to laugh, Keith comes to sit next to him on the bed and takes in the distant look on his friends face. When the bed dips, he is taken aback by the way Lance flinches and jerks away a little.

 

Keith wasn’t an expert on emotions or reading people, but something wasn’t right.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks, softly and gently. A voice he didn’t even know himself capable of doing, but he did and felt a lot of things when Lance was around he didn’t even think about before. From experience, he knew that touching Lance probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Still, the need to bring him into his arms was almost overwhelming.

 

‘Hold, comfort, protect,  _ keep. _ ’

 

He silences his mind.

 

“Yeah, yeah..” Lance laughs nervously, moving himself up into a sitting position. “It’s just.. I still can’t wrap my head around..” He gestures his head to his legs. Keith thought it could be a little hard for someone like Lance. Someone whose whole world almost revolved around being able to move his legs. It was part of how he escaped. Still, something wasn’t sitting right.

 

“Why did you jerk away when I sat down and got close to your legs,” Keith bluntly asks.

 

Lance blinks his eyes, trying to process what he heard. A million thoughts flitter about his mind and it’s hard to make any of them out. They range from ‘keep quiet,’ to ‘It’s just Keith’ and he’s automatically reminded about how his late night talks were what calmed him down. Especially with those weird messages.

 

It was just Keith.

 

Lance felt safe with Keith.

 

He could trust him right?

 

*_*_*_*

 

He isn’t sure how he got here, but he wasn’t complaining. The moonlight coming inside from his window illuminated Lance’s face in an angelic way. It had his mind blanking, only thoughts of him taking root.

 

Absently, he uses his arm that Lance wasn’t laying on to stroke Lance’s cheek gently. His skin was soft. Lightly, he cups the other males cheek and relishes in the feeling of completeness it gives him. Keith took satisfaction when Lance nuzzled into his hand a little and shuffled a little closer to him.

 

Keith could get used to this

 

…

 

If only the reason they were like this wasn’t because of Lance having a break down over his father. His list of dislikes was slowly becoming a list.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: K _

_ Subject: A pig. _

_ To: Unknown _

_ _____________________ _

_ I need information. _

**(2:30 a.m.)**

 

Sly lips tilt into a mischievous grin. How could this request be denied? After all, curiosity killed the cat and perhaps in this case it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. One less problem for tomorrow.

 

_ From: Unknown _

_ Re: Subject: A pig. _

_ To: K. _

_ ___________________ _

_ What would you like to _

_ know this time, pup? _

**(2:33 a.m.)**

 

An image was sent of an older male was sent. An unpleasant look upon his face as he was shown entering his home, hair mussed up and questionable stains on his pants. But, what was eye catching was the similarity between this man and one doll. Same tanned skin and hair..

 

*_*_*_*

 

“Good for nothing, brat,” he mutters as he stumbles into a bar. The smell of booze and musk hits him in the face, but he only inhales it deeper. It’s the thing most like home to him. It was what he took relish in and enjoyed. His escape. As he makes his way to the bar, he spots a new face. He hadn’t seen them around before. If he did, surely he would remember someone who looked like this?

 

Milky white skin, clothed in thin red fabric that didn’t quite make it to wide thighs before splitting off, and wild, short, brown locks. The most striking thing about them though was their eyes. They screamed of danger and mystery in swirls of bright blue.

 

“My usual, please,” he says to the bartender. He thinks her name is Barbra, but to be honest he could care less. He was captivated by the beauty beside him. As such, he turned his attention to the person beside him. “Hello, are you new?”

 

When blue meets his own eyes, he thought he saw a flash of recognition but he quickly waved it off as quickly as it happened. He would remember a pretty face like this. However, he still got no answer other than a shrug and perhaps a slight tilt of the head that showed off a long  kissable  neck.

 

“A quiet one, eh? Not a problem, if I have my way you won’t be for long.” He says, bringing his hand to boldly rest on the others knee. As he turns his attention to the bartender, accepting his drink he doesn’t notice the slight shake in the beauties body or the slight paleness. Though, if he did, he probably wouldn’t care anyway.

 

…

At some point, they had left the bar. It was unclear when, but the one thing that was clear was the feeling of lips on his and a tongue battling for his. A battle he  _ will  _ win. Still, as he is roughly shoved into a wall and pinned there it was becoming harder to keep control. However, as his hands roamed, his fingers touched something.. Not very feminine.

 

This wasn’t a woman.

 

This was a man.

 

For some reason, that flipped a switch in him and he roughly switched their places, erupting a small groan from the other. A fire ignited inside of him. So, this was a homo? A fag? Well, he wanted to try his luck on him and seduce him? He is in for a very long night, then. He didn’t roll that way, not at all. Still, he couldn’t help but buck a little when the breathtaking male before wrapped a  _ strong  _ leg around him and tugged him closer.

 

As he opened his eyes, he thought that he was overdressed. So, as he moves away from the others lips, he trails kisses down his neck and slowly starts slipping the thin dress away from his body. There were scars there, but he could care less about them as he made his way down his body. Enchanted by him, all the anger from before completely gone and replaced with raw, undying lust.

 

As a weight is added on top of his shoulder, he looks up and flashes a wolfish grin only to be met with a chilling sight. Instead of a blissed out look on his partners face, he is met with the blankest and coldest glare he had ever seen. Horror fills his body and he doesn’t have time to move before it’s too late. That oh so strong leg from before has him thrown to the floor and he hits his head hard enough to have him be knocked unconscious.

 

….

 

“You’re a piece of shit.”

 

Who was that?

 

His eyes open up groggily and he meets with a blur of red and black. Where was he?

 

“I want you to feel everything, all of the pain you have caused him.” States a voice, monotone laced heavily within. It was then that he realized he was bound to a bed with chains. Is this a game? He hates games.

 

“That won’t do you any good.” States the voice, obviously a male, as he pulls on the chains. “Though, in the long run it’s not going to make a difference if you get those off or not.” A shadow looms over him and it’s then that he sees it. A very familiar hammer, the one with his initials and the one he used specifically against someone. Dread fills him when it is lifted above this males head and it fills up faster than the hammer could make contact with his kneecap.

 

It hurt. God, did it hurt. It was throbbing endlessly and it only got worse when it came down again. A cracking sound could be heard throughout the room. Tears fall from his eyes, though they were long closed now. He didn’t think he could see even if he did open his eyes though, his eyelashes were sticking together.

 

“This won’t do. Look at me.”

 

Still, his eyes don’t open and he anxiously listens in on the silence. When he hears the opening of a drawer, an odd feeling creeps in. Footsteps come closer and something cold is rested ontop of his bare chest. Wait, bare? When did he get undressed? Though, that was probably the least of his worries as fingers pry open one of his eyes. He stares in horror as a needle with thread could be seen.

 

Fingers skillfully lift his eyelid, peeling it back and holding it in place as pain forms from where the needle was inserted into his skin. If he moved the wrong way, it’d probably be send the needle careening through his eyeball. He didn’t want that, but in this situation, as he squirms, he begins to think which would be worse. Once that eye was done, he moved onto the other.

 

He could see.

 

The needle and thread are placed on a tray beside where he was currently lying.

 

“Hm.. You do look a lot alike.” The male mutters, stroking his face some. “Though, you have a more manly look to you.” Fingers prod at his jaw and cheek, though they were covered by gloves. Eventually, they find themselves in his mouth. They run over his teeth, grazing his tongue. On instinct, he gags and the fingers are removed.

 

“Your teeth are rotten. Do you really need them?” He hears the man wonder out loud. He sees him look at the table and he comes back with a knife. The man now moves to straddle him, his weight heavy on top of him. “Be a good boy and open your mouth nice and wide, okay? That’s what good boys do, right?” He hears him muse before his mouth is forced open.

 

The taste of metal is odd and the feeling of it scraping against his teeth is unsettling. It pokes and prods, pricking his gum in a few places that causes the taste of iron to take place. It was almost like being at the dentist, except this time he wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing. More tears start to leak as the knife makes itself a home to the right of his mouth. It knicks away at the gum holding it in place, scraping it off before being dug deeper and lifting up. It hurts, it hurts, it  _ hurts. _

 

And as the tooth is lifted out of its place by the knife, it aches with his eyes and knee. If he survived this, he’d never be the same. Though survival as a whole was quickly being forgotten as the knife digs out each tooth until none are left and his mouth is full of blood. It is at this point, the chains on his hands are removed and he is allowed to sit up propped by the wall.

 

Blood leaks from his mouth and he stares at his teeth that are placed on a plate on top of his lap.

 

“Wouldn’t they make great decorations?” He is asked and he shows no sign in having heard him. Not really expecting a response, the male lifts his hand into his view and observes his fingernails. “Yes, I think they’d do nicely here. What do you think?” Nothing. “Of course, you’d love that.”

 

It isn’t expected when the same knife used to remove his teeth is sliding underneath his index fingers nail. It moves side to side, slowly tearing away at the skin keeping it intact. Once the connection was severed and there blood trickling out from around and under the knife, the nail is popped off like a cans tab. And the cycle continues until all ten nails are stacked into a bloody stack.

 

At this point, he wasn’t even fully aware of what was going on. Surely, by now, he’d have thought he’d bleed out or something. Luck wasn’t on his side. Maybe it was karma coming back for him? If that was the case, he really had no one to blame but himself for the fact that his teeth were now being pushed into the place that his nails had previously been.

 

For a minute there, the pain stopped. But, with a jolt to his side, he was quickly brought back to the world and the pain erupting from him.

 

“You can’t die yet.”

 

Yet. That was they word that caught his attention. The world wasn’t done with him yet. Hadn’t he paid his price? Wasn’t all of his wrongs finally justified? Apparently not.

 

“You’re a fan of alcohol, aren’t you?” As expected, no answer was given but one wasn’t needed for very soon, a longer knife was cutting into his thighs. They were thin cuts, only deep enough to draw blood. Almost like paper cuts.

 

True to papercut nature, they stung like a bitch when something got into them. Just his luck that it would be alcohol that got into it. The liquid was poured all over his body. Into every cut, every opening, and even into his eyes and mouth. He gurgles a little, but that wasn’t the finale.

 

A match is lit.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Keith collapses into the tub, folded onto himself as the water runs over his body and his fingernails rake across his skin, remembering drunk hands running across his body. It turns red fairly quickly, blood even seeping out.

 

Dirty.

 

He was dirty.

 

So, so very  _ dirty _ .

 

It was early in the morning, not a soul was awake in his house. Not Lance, not Allura, and not Shiro. Just him, alone and shaking in the bathroom as tears collide with the, now cold, shower water. At least, that is what he thought.

 

“Keith? Are you okay?”

 

Lance.

 

That was Lance.

 

“Ye..Yeah,” he croaks out and he thought he went away. ‘No, come back-’ his thoughts are cut off when Lance opens the door. The blue eyed boys heart breaks at the sight of Keith before him. “Hey, hey.. What’s the matter?” he whispers softly, carefully crutching his way to the toilet. It was there he sat down and watched the black haired boy carefully.

 

“I’m  _ disgusting _ ,” Keith emotionlessly says and he rocks back and forth. Lance doesn’t even bat an eyelash before resting his hand on Keith’s bare shoulder. He doesn’t remove it even when the boy beneath him freezes. “Why do you say that?”

 

“My mother, she made me this way.”

 

“Allura?” Lance asks softly, surprise in his voice.

 

Keith shakes his head and hides his face from Lance. “Before,” he mutters and Lance understands. It’s a relic from the past.

 

“You aren’t. Let’s get you cleaned up and back into bed, yeah? We can talk there, it’d be more comfortable.” Lance says and Keith shakily nods. Lance watches Keith’s hand, shivering and all, turn the knobs to the shower off and Lance handed his towel to him afterwards. As Keith gets dressed and even after they’d made it back to the room, Lance couldn’t help but wonder about Keith. He had never seen him like that before.

 

Laying down, Lance had his arms wrapped around Keith with the latter of the two resting his head against his chest. If this were any other time and Keith didn’t have a breakdown, Lance would probably be trying to justify their position but at this moment he didn’t care. So what if guy friends didn’t do this? It felt right and it was comforting to not just Keith, but Lance, too.

 

Lance sighs, absently stringing his fingers through Keith’s hair. He rests his cheek against the top of his head, ignoring the slight uncomfortable position his injured leg (as the sprained one was healed pretty much) was in, he hums softly. “Ssh, it’s alright,” soothes Lance.

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

*_*_*_*

 

The following morning, Keith wakes up first. He opens his eyes, feeling much tired than he should but he didn’t care. He took in Lance and his messed up hair. He looked angelic. Staring at his face, he couldn’t help but lean in a little, focusing on his lips. Though, blue eyes quickly opened and he pulled away some.

 

“Keith?” Lance asks, sleep still heavy in his voice.

 

“It’s time to get up,” Keith responds and unravels himself from the mess that was his bed. He helps make sure Lance could get off the bed safely before heading down to the bathroom to get ready for today. After all, today was his birthday and he had no doubt that Allura would be making a big deal out of it. Even though it was a school day, he didn’t have much thought about school. It was irrelevant and insignificant.

 

As he exits the bathroom, he hears the t.v in the living room. He pauses in the doorway, listening in.

 

_ “Last night, the body of an adult male by the name of Leandro McClain was found on Altea High School grounds in the back. As the police investigate, the school will be closed down unto further notice. As for the victim, it would seem to be another burn victim. Could it possibly be linked to the death of Chad Grey?” _

 

Keith enters the room, just as Allura and Shiro cast each other worried looks. “What’s going on?” He asks, arms crossed. Of course, he knew. He had just listened in, after all. Allura casts a look down at the hallway where Lance had went to the bathroom.

 

“There’s no school today,” she takes in a deep breath, steadying herself. “A body was found on campus and it.. It was Lance’s father.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah..” She trails off, tears appearing in her eyes. She was taking it to heart and she didn’t even personally know the man. “I just hope Lance and his mother are going to be okay and that they find whoever did this-” Shiro is cut off by Lance crutching in.

 

“Did what?” Lance asks, oblivious to all going around him.

 

Allura breaks first and hobbles over to him, pulling him into her embrace. She sobs into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. So, so very sorry. I can’t believe your father is gone.” Lance stares numbly, not sure how to react.

 

Meanwhile, anger was flaring up inside of Keith at the sight before him. Allura touching Lance and Lance not pushing her away. Why? Of course, he knew why the scene before him was happening. Still, it did nothing to squash the darkness dwelling within his mind and heart, gripping onto him tightly and not letting go.

 

He didn’t like this. Some birthday.

 

*_*_*_*

Dear, mother

 

Are you proud? I did what you taught me. Perhaps not in the way you intended, but something you taught me finally came into use. Who would have thought?

 

*_*_*_*

 

The funeral for Chad Grey came and went uneventfully, but it was immediately followed by Lance’s fathers. It occurred on Halloween and the already eerie holiday just seemed that much darker. There was nothing to be joyous about.

 

“Should I.. Should I feel bad?” Lance asks softly, watching his fathers casket be lowered.

 

“About?”

 

“His death.”

 

“Not at all.” Keith responds, watching the scene before him. It started to rain lightly, but that didn’t deter him from sticking through it with Lance even when the rest of the people attending scattered like roaches when something was thrown at them. It was peaceful almost, standing there with him in the cemetery.

 

“Come on, let’s go,” Lance says softly and begins crutching away. Keith follows after him a minute later, though his eyes linger on the tombstones. Something wasn’t right.

 

*_*_*_*

 

Despite earliers depressing event, Keith and Lance found entertainment in one anothers company. They sat on Keith’s porch with both of them occupied with something, though perhaps Keith was more into staring at Lance than his guitar. “How long have you played?” Lance asks, his pencil gliding across the paper.

 

“A long time.” Keith responds and Lance rolls his eyes, deciding that was the best he was going to get. Silence follows them for a bit afterwards and Keith decides he had enough of his guitar. As he sets it down, Lance speaks up.

 

“Thank you, by the way.”

 

“For?” Keith raises an eyebrow, coming to sit next to him.

 

“For letting me stay here and for.. Being there for me, I guess.” Lance says softly. Keith’s eyes soften and he looks at Lance with a gentle look. “You don’t need to thank me for that.” He responds and Lance shakes his head, moving his eyes up to meet his only to pause what his response was going to be. The look on Keith’s face dazed him and Keith figured it was perfect a time as any as he leans forwards. Lance watches, following his lead.

 

For awhile now, Lance had been conflicted. He kept having odd thoughts and dreams, but never once had he done what he was doing now. Not once had he ever connected lips with anyone willingly, much less another  _ boy _ . Still, his pencil falls out from his fingertips as he leans more into the kiss.

 

The kiss that was so gentle and soft despite Keith’s chapped lips.

 

Keith’s lips.

 

Keith.

 

His blue eyes snap open and he pulls away. “I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t, this can’t happen.” He says hurriedly and Keith developed a confused expression. “What? What’s wrong?” He asks and Lance shakes his head, slowly standing up with his crutches. “We can’t do this. It’s wrong, it’s- it’s,  _ disgusting. _ ”

 

Keith pauses. He doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. Lance watches him worriedly, but eventually gives up and goes inside. There, he calls his mother. It isn’t long before he is on his way out of the door again. He doesn’t even spare a glance back, but Keith’s eyes never leave him as he enters his mothers car.

 

He was always watching.

 

*_*_*_*

 

_ From: Unknown _

_ Subject: Doll _

_ To: Keith _

_ ____________________ _

_ He is an excellent kisser, _

_ is he not?  _ [image attached]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've read your comments and they make me really happy, thank you for supporting this story for so long. Before I dive into the facts, here is this chapters background:  
> “Hunk” Harlot:  
> The absolute sweetheart of the group. Hunk is an only child, but he views Pidge and Lance as his own siblings. He lives with his grandma, but his mother and father stop by when they can. There isn’t any tragic story behind that, it was just easier with how often his parents traveled. He grew attached to his friends and they didn’t want to separate him due to his already developing anxiety. However, after he got to the age of 12, they gave him the option to go with them (they ask the same thing every time they visit) and his answer is usually no. But, he did go once and it wasn’t a too bad experience. He met a girl named Romelle who was a year older than he (he was 14) and they still regularly talk. Hunk doesn’t really enjoy anime, but he did get into Food Wars with Lance. Hunk wants to be a chef and own his own restaurant! A little fact that only Lance and Pidge (as well as his Grandma) knows, is that he is a pretty good artist. It’s his one hobby outside of cooking and football. He is currently 16 (turns 17 on the 13th of January).
> 
> Now, for the facts.  
> Columbine: Eric Harris.  
> \- He was intrigued with Adolf Hitler. He learned German and would write "I am god" in German in yearbooks.  
> \- He wanted to leave a lasting impression on America.  
> \- He was interested in bombs.  
> \- He once threw an ice ball at a friends car and threatened to kill him.  
> \- His violence was outwardly displayed.  
> \- Columbine Massacre was dubbed as "Judgement Day"  
> https://www.biography.com/people/eric-harris-235982
> 
> This is just a little bit that I know, I was recommended to research him by my English teacher when this fanfiction was just an idea. So, I did and I am actually appalled. There is more than what meets the eye with what is stated there and even released to the public. I recommend researching him.
> 
> If you have any research suggestions, let me know! I'll look into it.


	5. Vagary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (n). an erratic or unpredictable action.

Skin is impressionable.

It's so easy to mark it, alter it-  _damage it._

Maybe that's why, as pale fingers push into tan skin, it's so satisfying. To have such control over something.

To have control at all.

To be able to bring out different faces, different sounds.. Just with your fingertips! It was a high, a rush. Something to get drunk off of. This, this feeling of being the one on top.

And perhaps that feeling was different.

It's different compared to the others. It differs because of where you are and  _who_ you are now.

No longer is that child who was barely holding on, being dominated by men, women, and nonbinary alike.

No.

In place was something better. Something stronger and most certainly, something  _alive_.

That's what pulses through your existence as you fondle through your dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might delete this later on or when I post the actual new chapter up, but I wanted to post something until I'm able to get the new chapter out instead of leaving you guys with nothing for months.
> 
> Let me know below what you guys think and if I should post little things like this again!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This entire thing is very important to me and I've been working on it for awhile, so I hope you got something out of it. So, this is how the end note is going to go down from here on out. At the end of each chapter, I will add one or two facts about the NRA, Gun Laws, and school shootings. It will be picked at random, but if there's something that you specifically want to know: then tell me and I will look into it!  
> Let's start off with: what is the NRA?  
> The NRA (National Rifle Association) is, in short, a group that advocates for the right to bear arms. It was founded in 1871 by William Conant Church and George Wood Wingate (https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/5740075/nra-convention-national-rifle-association-of-america-gun-control/).
> 
> Another thing you will find here, at the end, is at least ONE character background set in this universe. For an example, I am going to leave Allura's here today:  
> Allura:  
> Shiro’s wife. Her family founded “Altea” several years ago. It’s a pretty old school, though it has been remodeled. She, herself, as well as her father had attended it growing up. Her and Shiro are high school sweethearts. She is sterile, unable to conceive, which had pained her and Shiro for many, many years. Adoption was actually their last resort. For a living, she is an attorney and is an active protester. Her current age is 40. She tries to understand Keith, but has a difficulty understanding him the majority of the time. Out of the family, she is probably the one that Keith isn’t that close to. It would seem he much prefers Shiro and had seemed to always do so. No one is sure why, exactly, but a therapist had mentioned it might have something to do with Keith’s past before he was put into their care. She was 30 when they adopted Keith. In High-school, she enjoyed cheerleading. She tried taking up cooking, but didn’t have the skill for it so Shiro took over. She makes up for it by cleaning when she has the time, though. When she has free time (to herself), she most often spends it watching K-Dramas and soap operas. She was quite fond of theatrics but lacked the talent for it, even though no one really told her otherwise. Her and Shiro challenge each other while working out, both being competitive. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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